The Vanquisher
by AJ Freas
Summary: The war is finally over. Harry is the victor, but now he finds himself without a purpose. For the first time in his young life, the Vanquisher of Dark Lords is at loose ends. On his first day back to school, Luna takes him to the Forbidden Forest. The Vanquisher's new legend and destiny waits for him to awaken on the plains of Rohan. AU (No pairings)
1. So It's Over

**AN: ** Daughter #2, Elipsa, and I had such a great time writing Three Turns, that we decided to give it another try with a Crossover story with Harry Potter & Lord of the Rings.

I had two ideas:

1. Eradan - Elipsa posted the one shot story that we collaborated on. (For the record - I wanted it to end at the council meeting, the other part was _all _Elipsa! And it was _not_ my idea to do a sequel… which I am not a part of… except to proofread.)

2. The Vanquisher - Started out to be a joint effort. In the end Elipsa only wrote one chapter. I leave it up to you to figure out which one. (Which should be easy for anyone who's read Three Turns.)

Seeing how this is so totally AU, a few things didn't happen.

1. Snape didn't die. Sorry all you Snape haters, the man was too smart not to have some sort of anti-venom after that incident with Arthur Weasley. Daughter #1 said he was tired and wanted to die, but no… he's still around _cuz I said so_. (stomps foot, crosses arms and gives Daughter #1 the stink eye)

2. Fred didn't die because Daughter #2 demanded it to be so - though he doesn't play a part in the story… at all.

3. Harry didn't drop the stone, that's just silly. After all they went through to find all the parts of the Deathly Hallows, he's not gonna just drop it where some random person could pick it up.

4. Harry didn't destroy the Elder Wand.

5. Hedwig didn't die. Because… well just because… you'll see.

* * *

**So It's Over.**

"Stupid Hufflepuffs!" Harry groused.

Leaving the library, Harry huffed and stormed down the hall only to come to a complete stop when faced with a small first year with large blue eyes and long golden hair. The young Ravenclaw smiled serenely at him and spoke with a soft, lilting voice, "Don't listen to them, Harry. They're frightened by what they hear and don't understand what they see. Your instincts will guide you and she'll be fine. Believe in yourself."

And, just as quickly as she appeared, the young girl was gone. Harry blinked in confusion and turned to see where the blonde witch could have disappeared to, but she was nowhere in sight. Shaking his head, Harry had no idea what to think about that brief encounter or what the girl was even talking about. He didn't even know her name.

Yet a small smile tugged at the second year Gryffindor's features as he walked back to his common room and his heart wasn't nearly as heavy with sadness. Perhaps not all of the students at Hogwarts believed Harry to be the heir of Slytherin after all.

* * *

Her words came back to Harry as Buckbeak flew them to safety, 'Trust him, Harry. He will save you and your dog. He will not fail you.'

Hermione clung to him and buried her face against his back, "Have I mentioned I hate flying?"

Sirius laughed merrily as Harry had the hippogriff bank right before coming to a smooth landing in the courtyard below. The escaped convict hopped off Buckbeak and grinned widely, "Well that was fun!"

Harry chuckled as Sirius helped Hermione down from Buckbeak's back. The young third year wizard didn't need help; he simply slid off the hippogriff and stroked the beast's feathers, "Thank you, Buckbeak. You're going to go with Sirius for a while. You will be safe from the Ministry."

Buckbeak let out a squawk and nudged the boy as if he were telling the young wizard that he understood what Harry had told him. The teen grinned at the brilliant animal. Harry turned to his best friend and shook his head in confusion, "Luna told me to trust Buckbeak. She said this after breakfast on our first day of school this year - before we even met him. How could she have known?"

* * *

"Harry?"

"Hi, Luna." Harry glanced past her shoulder at the tall hedges behind her, "Can't talk long, yeah?"

Luna gripped the fourth year's hand and stepped forward in a way to demand his full attention. She waited until Harry looked her in the eyes before speaking, "Sometimes - no matter how we wish otherwise - events _must _happen. Just try to remember that it isn't your fault."

Harry frowned at her words, sudden fear and doubt gripping his heart.

He could hear someone calling him so they could begin the Third Task, but he was lost in the depths of Luna's blue eyes. A calmness spread through him.

Harry blinked, breaking the odd trance he had fallen into and gave Luna a lopsided grin, "Okay."

* * *

"That doesn't matter; I still have no way to get there." Harry hadn't relented the point that the others weren't going with him to the Ministry. The fifth year Gryffindor was adamant that he would _not_ put his friends in further danger.

"I thought that was already settled," Luna gave Harry one of her serene smiles. "We're flying."

"_Look_," Ron snapped. Neville and Ginny exchanged confused looks at Luna's announcement while Hermione started at Ron's outburst. "_We_ can't fly without brooms. It isn't as if we have wings that will suddenly sprout out of our backs like you-"

"Don't be silly." Luna's smile slipped away and she turned her steely gaze upon the redhead, "I don't have wings, but they do."

Every head whipped around when Harry gasped, "Yes!" Moving forward towards the trees, Harry gazed up at the two thestrals, "Brilliant as always, Luna."

Three of the six friends that had gathered within the Forbidden Forest glanced at each other in confusion. Ron gaped at the triumphant smile that graced the blonde witch's face as she moved to stand beside his best friend and cooed at… nothing.

* * *

"I wish I could take your pain from you."

Harry flinched at the sound of her voice and swiped at his tears, "Hey, Luna."

"Hello, Harry." The blonde sat gingerly beside Harry under the beech tree and curled her arms around her raised legs. Luna rested her chin on her knee and gazed across the Black Lake. "Your time runs short. There is so much still to be done."

The sixth year teen closed his eyes and leaned against the tree, "I don't know what to do; where to turn; who to trust… there's just too much pain."

"Do you remember what I told you?"

Harry snorted at his friend, "You've told me a lot of things."

Luna gave him a small smile, "What did I tell you before you went into the hedges two years ago?"

He opened his eyes and stared at the clouds as he thought back to their conversation before the Third Task. He remembered that night: the third task, the portkey, the death of Cedric, the return of Voldemort, the fear, the sadness, the guilt, the eventual acceptance. "Some things have to happen."

There was a moment's pause before Luna prompted, "And…"

Harry hesitated. It was difficult for him to say the words, but deep down the teen knew Luna was right. "And that it's not my fault."

"The Headmaster's death was not your fault."

"No, it was _Snape_." Harry spat the name as if it was vile to taste.

"Not really. It was a mercy." Harry's head snapped towards her and his glare was intense, but the gentle look that he received in return didn't waver. Luna spoke just as melodious as she always had, ignoring the irate looks from her friend, "The Headmaster was already dying. Didn't you see his hand? The curse was strong and was slowly claiming his life. Professor Snape released him from his pain."

Luna turned her steady gaze back to the still waters of the lake, "You will need to trust him in the year to come. It won't be easy. Everyone will believe what they saw and not what they've been told. We each have a part to play and yours-"

For the first time since they had met during Harry's second year at Hogwarts, Luna's voice hitched and died away. Her quirky words of wisdom died unsaid. Tears filled her big blue eyes and sadness surrounded her.

Harry reached out to his friend and pulled her close. It was an awkward hug. Harry was unaccustomed to showing any sort of affection. Luna's sob caused the young wizard to overlook his own discomfort and hold her tighter as she turned her face into his chest . "Luna?"

"He's fighting the call. The perian is fighting the lure of the darkness."

Who _he _was, Harry hadn't a clue. The information was something he would file in the back of his mind to bring forth when Luna's cryptic words would be needed. Much like her telling him to trust a beast he had yet to meet.

* * *

Harry felt lost and at loose ends. The war was over. He survived. Voldemort was dead. Something he honestly hadn't expected, nor had he planned for what to do next now that the prophecy wasn't dictating his fate. His whole life had been geared towards the destruction of Voldemort.

He stooped down and plucked up the Elder Wand that Voldemort was so certain would kill Harry. The moment the young wizard had the wand in his grasp he felt the wave of magic wash over him and the Hallow warmed to the touch, thrumming with power.

Someone was calling his name. He heard the pounding of footsteps behind him. He instinctively tucked the wand into his mokeskin pouch he kept around his neck and turned to greet his best friends. "Oof!"

Hermione plowed into the unsuspecting teen causing him to take a few steps backwards to regain his footing, but Harry didn't complain. He wrapped his arms around her and gave a small grin when she blurted, "Oh, Harry! I was so frightened. I thought we lost you."

"I'm not so easy to kill, Hermione." Harry tugged on her arms, "But if you don't let up, you may choke me to death, yeah?"

"Oh!" Hermione blushed and released her hold on him. "Sorry."

Ron gave Harry a lopsided grin, "So it's over."

"Yeah."

"What do we do now?" Ron looked over his shoulder at the school they grew up in. "Everything is so… different."

"We're different, too." Hermione pointed out and moved closer to the red head. He simply gave her that lopsided grin of his before wrapping an arm over her shoulder. Harry raised an amused eyebrow and she blushed, "Yes, he finally got over his idiocy and-"

"Oi!" Ron balked, but the other two simply laughed.

Harry shook his head and started walking back to the castle, trying to ignore the dead bodies splayed all over the courtyard, "I'm happy for you two. Really, it is about time." Harry turned a deaf ear to Ron's growled 'git' comment and continued, "I'm just not sure where I'm heading next. I mean… honestly, I hadn't thought I'd survive this."

"I'm glad you did." Hermione wrapped an arm through Harry's and the three walked together.

"Me too, mate." Ron added.

Harry gave them a tired smile and added his own thought, "I'm glad we did, too. Where's Neville?"

"Last I saw, he was with Luna." Hermione released Harry's arm and picked up the charred Sorting Hat as they strolled. "He was so brave. Neville was the one who killed Nagini."

"I'll have to remember to thank him for that. His head didn't burn too badly then?" Harry eyed the hat that laid limp in Hermione's hand. The Boy-Who-Lived gently took the floppy Sorting Hat from her fingers and stroked the worn leather.

"Not that I saw."

The friends entered the castle and stopped within the Great Hall, taking in the sight of the occupants. Tears of relief and mourning, cries of anguish and pain all filled the room and Harry struggled not to walk away.

Hermione untangled her arm from Harry's and the wizard watched as she and Ron made their way towards the Weasley family.

In his spot by the doorway, Harry spotted a family that always stood out, but never more so than now. He made his way across the room and stopped before the three. Lucius Malfoy looked warily at the boy, but didn't speak. Draco frowned at Harry and Narcissa gave the young man a small nod which encouraged him to speak, "Thank you, Lady Malfoy." He gave a tired bow to the woman to show his gratitude and respect before turning his attention to the woman's son. "And thank you, Malfoy," Harry rolled the wand between his fingertips, "I wanted to return this to you. I wouldn't have survived without it."

Draco stood at that point and stared at his wand in his nemesis' hand, "You used _my _wand to…"

"Mhmm…"

Narcissa had covered her mouth and stared in fascination at the wand being exchanged from the teen to her son. In a rather un-Slytherin fashion the woman blurted, "What do you expect in exchange?"

Harry grinned tiredly at the woman, "Nothing. It's a good wand, but it's Draco's. I know how it feels to lose your wand and I couldn't keep this."

Lucius had stiffened when the teen spoke and his eyes were drawn to the wand that vanquished his master. Draco closed his eyes and gave a small smile when his hand wrapped around the ten inches of hawthorn.

The weary wizard gave the three Malfoys another awkward nod and made his way towards the solitary form of the injured potions professor.

Harry crouched beside the prone still man, "Glad you made it, sir."

Snape looked blearily at the boy and gave a small, tired glare, "Is that so?"

The former student grinned at the look, oddly taking comfort in the familiar sight, "Yes." Harry sat on the ground beside the cot and leaned against the stone wall. "Sadly - as much as you may hate me - you're probably the only one in this whole castle that can understand me and what I've just done."

The professor groaned, "Lucky me."

Harry chuckled softly and gripped the Sorting Hat as an anchor to what was left of his sanity. He laid his head back and closed his eyes, feeling safe for the first time in over a year. "Indeed."

* * *

Harry Potter, The Boy Who Lived, The Chosen One, The Vanquisher of Dark Lord Voldemort, The Master of Death… was once again a student at Hogwarts at age eighteen. Somehow Hermione had managed to talk him and Ron into retaking their seventh year. Harry had attempted to argue that he couldn't possibly _retake _something he had skipped and not taken yet, but the girl was a menace and naturally got her way.

Harry hitched his school bag on his shoulder and made his way down to the common room. Hermione, Ginny and Neville were waiting for them. Ron was hot on his trail, "Come on, Harry. We're going to be late for breakfast."

"We aren't late, Ron." Harry countered.

"We are actually," Hermione pointed out, "the headmistress wanted us to be early this morning."

"Yeah well, come on then." Harry gave his friends a strained smile and gripped his school bag tighter. After having lived on the run for a full year, he understood the need to be prepared - much as Hermione had with her beaded bag. Harry had convinced Hermione to cast an Undetectable Extension Charm on his bag, ensuring he could carry all of his worldly possessions with him at all times.

The Gryffindors made their way to the Great Hall. Chatter was heard throughout the hall along with laughter and the usual boisterous noises. Harry frowned and slowed his pace, but his friends hadn't noticed. He pulled at his collar and watched the shadows. The words of the late Mad-Eye Moody resounding in his mind, 'Constant Vigilance.'

But the war was over. Voldemort was dead. The Death Eaters were either dead, in Azkaban or in hiding.

Harry sighed and quickened his paced to catch up to his friends. He was being paranoid. Hogwarts was repaired: the walls, wards, _everything _was back to - or at least as close to - normal as possible. There was nothing for the young man to worry about. That was what they kept telling him, but the words were empty and did nothing to ease his concerns.

Harry took his seat at the Gryffindor table with his friends and set his bag on his lap.

Hermione saw the ever present bag and frowned at him, "Harry…"

"Don't." Harry didn't meet her gaze while he continued scooping eggs onto his plate and grabbed the platter of bacon. Much to his relief, Hermione heeded his warning and didn't continue speaking about his paranoia. She understood, or she thought she did. Maybe she was right in her assumption, perhaps she did understand. She had been there. Hermione was out in the woods as much as he, but she didn't kill. Harry had. Hermione hadn't been killed. Harry had been.

With a long suffering sigh, Harry closed his eyes only to open them when the owls arrived. He watched dozens of birds flying throughout the Great Hall with a thought of his long time friend Hedwig, but he hadn't been expecting any mail that day… or any day really. Harry lowered his head and dug into his breakfast with gusto ignoring the conversation around him.

"Harry, it's time." Luna's voice broke the morning repast as the Great Hall around them grew silent.

He looked up at his long time friend and frowned in confusion. She wore a long white gown, her long golden hair framed her face with soft curls and her large blue eyes danced with excitement. "Hello Luna." Harry greeted, "Time for what?"

"Time to go." Luna took his hand in hers and gently led him out of the Great Hall. Her leather boots made no sound against the stones, but the gown whispered around her ankles.

Harry looked back at the tables in confusion. No one seemed to notice as they exited the building as they all ate, drank and spoke silently. The only sounds were of his dragon hide boots and the swish of Luna's gown. Harry allowed Luna to guide him away from their friends and the safety of the school, but spoke his concern. "We won't be late for class will we? You know how Hermione is about being late."

Luna simply smiled at Harry and walked him to the Forbidden Forest. Harry was starting to wonder what was going on. He slowed his pace as his heart began racing. They had made it to the clearing where he had met Voldemort and died. He hadn't begun to panic until the blonde witch released his hand. Harry stepped closer to the girl, "Luna, what's this all about?"

From seemingly nowhere, Luna pulled a grey cloak and wrapped it around his shoulders, fastening it with a pin that resembled a green leaf. Harry watched as she threw a white cloak with gold trimming around her own shoulders and fastened a similar leaf on hers.

Throughout this whole ordeal, Luna hadn't spoken. She faced Harry with her serene smile and large blue eyes. Hedwig swooped low and landed on her human's shoulder. Harry grinned at his familiar, "Hello, girl."

Luna held a rolled parchment out to him and Harry hesitated. Laughing softly, Luna stepped closer, took his hand and wrapped it around the message. Rising on her toes, she pressed her lips softly against Harry's cheek. "Don't fear what lies ahead, Harry. It is destiny."

The moment the words were spoken there was a flash of light. Harry felt no pain but the talons digging into his shoulder. There was no hex or curse. The portkey's pull at his stomach had him tumbling through to his destination before his world went dark.

* * *

**AN 2:** I've actually finished writing this story (it still needs to be edited)... well, it's mostly written because I still have to wrap up the epilogue, but otherwise it is complete.


	2. This Should Be Interesting

**AN:** You'll probably notice that there are a quite a few quotes from the movie(s), because let's face it they're awesome.

I'm posting this because really that last one is a prologue and this is the first chapter. I apologize. This has not yet been proofread. I will replace it once my daughter has a moment for her mother... (think the guilt will work?) Ha, it worked! This has been proofread and reposted.

* * *

**This Should Be Interesting**

The Witch-king gently tugged on the reins and his hell-hawk swooped to the left over the broken city of Osgiliath. The ring-bearer was near; he could feel the call. There - standing in the open - was the small male - a hobbit - gazing up at him, fully in the thrall of the One. The Witch-king stilled his black winged beast and reached for the ring.

A piercing pain wrenched through him as he clutched his head and he screamed. All within earshot cowered and trembled in fear, but the Witch-king could not relish in it. His link to the One had been brutally maimed; his loyalty was challenged.

The Master had come.

Pulling hard at the reins of his hell-hawk, the Witch-king fled.

* * *

His head hurt. There was a throbbing pain, or more accurately, a pecking pain. Harry winced and flailed, "Hedwig…"

The owl hooted in relief and hopped off of Harry's head. The young wizard sat up slowly, straightening his glasses back on his face. He noticed the parchment that was still clasped in his hand, but there was no writing upon it; there were only swirls and scribbles. The sun was shining brightly and he squinted at his familiar. That was the moment that his new surroundings dawned on him, "Buggering hell, Luna, where'd you take me to?"

He looked around, attempting to find the blonde witch. "Huh?" He stared back down at Hedwig who was now sitting on his knee. "What happened to Luna?"

Hedwig screeched at him and Harry winced, "Well, I don't know where we are or where she is."

The owl huffed and Harry gave a small shrug, "I'm sure we'll figure this out. Hopefully soon."

Harry stuffed the parchment in his bag, stood - as Hedwig hopped out of the way to sit on the ground - and brushed off the grass from his school robes. Looking around at the mass of greeny, the boy grabbed his bag and hitched it over his shoulder. Grass was everywhere. He had awakened in an open field of nothing but green land as far as his eyes could see. The young wizard looked behind him and noted the small rolling hills and shadows of something, perhaps there was a forest in the distance.

Pulling his wand out of its holster, Harry laid it flat on his open palm and commanded, "Point me." The wand spun immediately and stopped to point North. Harry looked towards his right and gave a small sigh at the distant shadows. "While it is good to know that is North, I suppose knowing where we are and why I'd want to go North would come in handy."

Hedwig flew up to land on the boy's shoulder and gave him a small nip of support. "Yes, but what if danger is North and I should be heading South?" The bird nipped harder and Harry laughed. "Well then, how about you fly off in that direction and tell me where I want to go, hmm?"

The owl took flight and Harry immediately wished she had stayed. He held fast to his wand and looked around him. Nothing had changed from the first time he looked, but it eased his mind nonetheless. There were no noises other than insects buzzing and the sound of…

Harry whipped around with panicked eyes. A stampede? Harry didn't have time to search for his cloak. He quickly cast a disillusionment spell and shuddered when it took effect. The cold feel of the spell was never a pleasant one, even if it was convenient.

His eyes widened when the cause of the sound of a stampede approached him. Riders. Men on horses, wearing full plate armor carrying spears rode quickly in a formation of four men across. Knights? Harry wasn't sure how many there were or if they were friendly.

The group was the first sign of life he had seen since awakening and he had almost allowed them to pass him by. When they rode nearby Harry watched with fascination, but soon he dropped the spell and called out to them.

"Hey!" Harry waved his hand, but they hadn't heard him. He huffed in annoyance and cast sonorus, "Excuse me."

His voice bellowed in the field, causing the riders to circle back with their weapons out and ready. Harry knew using magic around Muggles was wrong, but the boy was desperate. With an inaudible sigh, Harry cancelled his spell and waited until he was their center of attention. Literally.

The men pointed their spears at the young man and formed a circle around him as if to trap him. Harry narrowed his eyes at them and noted one had a fancier helm than the others with a plume of sorts, or, more accurately, a type of horse hair ponytail. "You must be the leader, yeah? Where am I exactly and how do I get back to Scotland?"

"Who are you?"

The young wizard huffed at the question to his question and glared before stating, "Harry Potter. And you are?"

The horses came to a stop and the man who spoke leaned forward to peer at the boy, "What sort of name is Potter?"

"Brittish?"

The man sat up straight as if offended, "I am Éomer, of the House of Eorl, the son of Éomund, Third Marshal of the Riddermark."

"Bloody hell, you're almost as bad as…" Harry grimaced as the point of a spear drew nearer to his face, "Yeah, okay. I can do that, too. I'm Harry, Head of the Ancient and Noble House of Black, Head of the Noble House of Potter, son of James, The Boy-Who-Lived, The Chosen One, Undesirable No. 1 and Vanquisher of Dark Lord Voldemort."

"What is a Vold…"

"Voldemort? You don't…" Hedwig flew back to her human and landed on his shoulder. "We're in real trouble here, girl. They don't even know who Voldemort is. Then again, perhaps they're Muggles and then I'm going to have to obliviate them, yeah?" He pet his owl gently, ignoring the uneasy grumbling of the men.

"You speak to animals? What sorcery is this?"

"It isn't as if she speaks back," Harry conveniently kept his skill of speaking with snakes to himself. "Look, I was at school. A friend of mine took me to the Forbidden Forest and gave me a letter. Then poof, here I am."

Éomer sighed and removed his helm, "How old are you?"

"Eighteen, last birthday. I'm of age." Harry sighed back at the look of disbelief. Harry hated being short and skinny, but his robes covered just how thin he truly was. His year of horcrux hunting had been harsh and nothing had helped bulk him back up. Not even Mrs. Weasley's cooking. "I'm not lying."

"The Men of the Mark do not lie, therefore they are not easily deceived."

Harry stiffened at that comment, "Mark? As in the Dark Mark, you aren't… you can't be… Fate can't be that cruel, can it?" His wand was instantly in his hand again and he peered at Éomer, "Are you Death Eaters?"

"You speak riddles."

"You speak rubbish and yet we're still talking."

"Take heed with your words, you are outnumbered and unarmed."

"Oh, but I'm not." Harry pointed his wand at Éomer and cried out, "Expelliarmus!" Éomer's spear flew towards Harry as the rider was flung backwards off his horse. "Shite!" Harry ducked as the spear went over his head. Hedwig took flight and screeched her annoyance at her human. The young man looked up at the snowy owl, "Okay, I admit. That wasn't one of my better ideas."

A spear was thrust at him and once more Harry cast a spell, "Defensiva Oppositum!"

"Enough," Éomer growled as he struggled to his feet, "The boy is obviously one of the Istari. A wizarding apprentice, I'd wager. The black robe should have been sign enough."

Harry looked down at his clothes and gave a small shrug, the man had a point. He was soon faced with a chest of plate armor and raised his head upwards to look at Éomer. The Third Marshal smirked at the smaller man, "The question is: who do you serve?"

"Vanquisher of a Dark Lord, that wasn't enough of a clue that I'm a light wizard?" Harry peered at the man before him, "Unless I was right and you're dark, even if you claim to not know Voldemort."

Éomer laughed, "You are a strange one. Come, we ride for Edoras. The king will decide your fate.'

"Ride? As in ride a horse?" Harry looked at the large beasts warily, "Is it anything like riding a hippogriff?" When Harry received nothing but blank looks he shook his head, "This should be interesting."

"More so since you will be riding with me." Éomer's humor was gone. The man stood straight after retrieving his spear and stared at Harry, daring the younger man to contradict him. Harry gave a small nod, to which Éomer returned before putting his helm back on. "Good, as we have no spare horse for you to ride solo. The two we had were given to travelers with a purpose."

"Just because I don't know where I am, doesn't mean I don't have a purpose." Harry argued, bristling at the idea of being belittled. The raven haired wizard stood with his back ramrod straight, shoulders back and continued. "My purpose… well…" The young man's shoulders slumped and he dropped his gaze while scratching his head, mussing up his already windblown hair, "I've fulfilled my purpose. I killed the Dark Lord. I haven't a clue where I'm to go from here."

The hard look in Éomer's eyes softened, "Then to Edoras we go. Perhaps the king can aid you in your search for your purpose."

Harry gave Éomer a crooked grin and a quick nod of assent. "One can only hope."

Éomer swung his leg over the saddle and reached down for Harry. The young man grimaced and admitted as he reached for the man's arm, "I've never ridden before."

"All the more reason to ride with me." Éomer pulled Harry upwards and the wizard struggled behind him. "To Edoras!"

The horses bolted forward, forming lines once more. Harry yelped at the sudden movement and clutched at Éomer's shoulders. "Bloody hell, a warning would have been nice."

The only response Harry received was laughter from the Riders of the Mark.

* * *

A man with flowing white hair and beard was riding far in front of the other two and managed to stop the riders of the Rohirrim before they entered the gates of Edoras. "Éomer!"

The Mark riders stopped when Éomer had turned to meet the wizard. When the elderly man was finally within speaking distance, Éomer spoke, "Long have we not seen the White Rider."

"Have you seen him?" The elderly man ignored the pleasantries and asked his pressing question.

Éomer canted his head, "Him? What is with wizards and their riddles? Speak clearly and I will answer in kind."

"The one the stories foretold, the Vanquisher!"

"I think he means me." Harry's voice came from behind the tall man. The wizard's eyes grew twice as large and a smile bloomed on the old man's face when Harry was revealed to his sight. Éomer had turned the horse in order for the other rider to speak with the grey wizard. "I do have a name, but it seems rather pedestrian in comparison with everyone else's titles. I'm just Harry Potter."

"Well, just Harry Potter," The man laughed, "you are most welcome to Middle Earth."

Éomer frowned at the young man behind him, "But he's just a boy."

"I'm of age. I told you that."

Only the man ignored him and continued speaking to the aged wizard, "How can one so small be the one of legend?"

Two more horses carrying three men had caught up to the others. Éomer gave them a nod of recognition as the elderly man dismissed the man's concern about Harry's age, as stature was not important.

Harry, on the other hand, simply stared in surprise at the sight of the elf. "I've met centaurs and goblins. I've fought dark wizards, trolls, acromantula and blast ended skrewts, but I've never met an elf like that before."

The old man chuckled as the elf stiffened unsure if he should be insulted or not, "Introductions are in order. I am Gandalf. I have many names and titles, but I will not bore you with those. This is Aragorn, Legolas and Gimli. Friends, this is Harry Potter. Each of you have titles as well, but for the sake of time, we will dispense of those for now. We must meet with the king. It is time for him to awaken."

Harry peered at the old man and smirked, "You're as cryptic as Headmaster Dumbledore was. Very well then, we'll just go see this king, yeah?"

In truth, Harry wanted desperately off of the horse, but was unwilling to mention that at the time. One simply doesn't mention sore bottoms to strangers, it was too embarrassing. The large group entered the wooden gates of Edoras and stopped first at the stable to leave the horses.

Gandalf stayed close to Harry's side and the young man grimaced in pain. Hedwig made her appearance and landed gracefully on her human's shoulder. The grey wizard gasped at the sight of the white owl. "You truly are the Vanquisher."

Harry sighed and ran his fingers over the owls feathers, "Yes. I suppose so. That is one of those silly titles I was given. You're a wizard then? How is it they all know about magic? That isn't an issue here?"

The group of men made their way up the path towards the Golden Hall of Meduseld. Gandalf strolled along and gave a brief history lesson to Harry. "There are five wizards of the Maiar in Middle Earth: Saruman, Alatar, Pallando, Radagast, and yours truly."

"Only five wizards? Well, six now, but really, that isn't many." Harry frowned and hitched his bag on his shoulder, gripping it tighter. "Who are we fighting then?"

"That would be Sauron. He too was a Maiar. It was why we were sent to aid those of this land."

"Then why am I here?"

The small group of men came to a stop short of the doors to the hall out of earshot of the guards. Gandalf gave a nod in its direction, "That is a story for another time. We have arrived." He then turned his attention to the others, "Do not make any sudden moves. Do not fight them. King Théoden is not himself. Watch for the one with a forked tongue."

"Hold," a large red bearded man stood in full armor with two guards behind him. "What business do you have with the Lord of the Mark?"

Éomer stepped forward, "Has it been so long, Háma, that you don't recognize the Captain of the Rohirrim?"

Háma gave Éomer a small grimace, "By the order of Grima," the man sneered as he spit out the name, "none may enter armed."

Gandalf gave everyone a pointed look and two of the three men began disarming. Gimli reluctantly gave over his many axes, some small for throwing, others as long as the man was tall. Aragorn removed his daggers from their sheaths, his bow from his back and sword in its scabbard from around his waist, giving the guards a warning glare, "Take care of these or you will answer to me."

The guard snorted, but was indeed careful setting the weapons aside. He then looked expectantly at the elf who sighed heavily and handed over his bow and twin sabers with golden handles.

Even Gandalf handed over the long sword that had hung at his side, but held fast to his staff. Háma eyed the long wooden stick, but Gandalf headed him off as he leaned on it for support, "Surely you wouldn't part an old man from his walking stick?"

Háma snorted, but waved them aside and stared openly at Harry. The youngest wizard shrugged, "I don't use swords, daggers or bows. Do I look like a warrior?"

The guards opened the doors to the Golden Hall and allowed the men to enter. Gandalf led the way with Aragorn on his right, Legolas on his left and Gimli and Harry bringing up the rear. Éomer stayed outside with the rest of the guards.

Sitting upon a throne was an old man with thinning white hair that stood up at all angles. His skin was wrinkled, sagging, peeling and chapped. His eyes were nearly white with blindness. Standing to the king's left was a man with greasy black hair, wrapped in dark clothing that contrasted with his white pale skin, making the man almost glow in the light of the torches that adorned the walls of the hall.

Harry peered at the sight of the man as he mentally compared him to a certain potions master, but the shudder that ran through the young wizard's body was caused by the voice that came from the king. "Late is the hour. What brings the gray wizard to my door?"

"Very good question, my lord." The greasy man slowly stepped forward, pulling his long black coat around him and openly sneered at Gandalf, "Lathspell I name you, Ill-news; and ill news is an ill guest they say."

Gandalf paid the man no attention, his gaze remained upon the king. His words were clear as if a sign that caught Harry's immediate attention, "Hold your venom, Wormtongue."

"I am Grima," the greasy man began, but Harry cut him off.

"Wormtongue, Wormtail… evil by any name is still evil and a worm by any name is still a traitor." Harry whipped out his wand and shouted, "Incarcerous!"

Binding ropes sprung from the ground and wrapped tightly around Grima, causing the man to fall helplessly to the ground. Gandalf took the opportunity to approach the king, denouncing an evil he called Saruman, but that confused Harry as earlier the same name was said to be one of the five wizards. Fighting broke out amongst the guards and the three men that had accompanied Gandalf.

Harry was hoping not to have to kill anyone, but did throw a stinging hexes at a blonde woman who tried to run at Gandalf or the king. He wasn't sure which man she was heading towards, but he had to stop her fast. Any immobilization spells would have her face planting on the floor. The blonde was unarmed and Harry didn't want to cause her undue injury. She screeched in shock and spun at him with wide blue eyes. Harry grinned sheepishly, "Sorry, but you need to let him wake the king up."

"Wake him up?" She shook her head in confusion and turned her attention once more to the confrontation, but she hadn't moved further to interfere. "I do not understand. The king isn't himself. He's… confused."

"Exactly," Harry agreed. "Gandalf will-" He winced when Gandalf struck the king with his staff on the forehead, "Well, I admit I hadn't seen that coming."

"Uncle!" The blonde woman ran to the king as the hall went quiet.

Every eye turned and watched as King Théoden gasped. The white in his eyes drew back, clearing his vision. Blue eyes blinked rapidly and attempted to focus. White hair was no longer frayed, but grew golden, thicker and silky. Chapped skin smoothed and soon the frail king was whole once more.

Harry grinned at Gandalf, "Impressive."

Gandalf chuckled and gave the bound Grima a soft nudge, "I can say the same about you."

"That was an easy spell. Learned that one many years ago." Harry gave a small shrug.

* * *

Created spell(s):

Defensiva Oppositum - Charms, protective barrier


	3. You Are Shorter Than the Dwarf!

**You Are Shorter Than the Dwarf!**

_Nine is the companions, resilient and devoted, yet fragile and tainted as mortals may be. Strife will strike when their spirits are low for war is upon them with no end in sight. The power of the One grows, capturing an unguarded soul. Driven asunder by uncertainty, purpose and force, one is lost for eternity. Without unity, the mission will fail and the world will fall into Darkness. Time will come; the Vanquisher will appear with yellow eyes to watch from above. Power and perception, vigour and benevolence, valour and veracity combined will fight to end the evil in the war of all wars._

The legend was retold for those who had forgotten or, in Harry's case, those who never knew. Gandalf's voice filled the Golden Hall and all those within were enraptured by the tale.

Éomer slammed down his ale, "But the Vanquisher is said to be a man among men, powerful beyond that of mere mortals. And _he_ is just a child!"

"When did Gandalf say that? He never said that. Besides, we've had this discussion before. I'm not a child. I'm of age!" Harry huffed, "How many bloody times must I say that until you believe me?"

"You are shorter than the dwarf!"

"Am not."

"Aye," Gimli smirked, "Ya are, lad."

"Am not!"

Gimli laughed. "You're almost a dwarf."

"Not helping." Harry groused and wrapped his hands around the tankard of ale. It tasted nothing like butterbeer, but it gave him the same warm buzz feeling. "What does my height or age have to do with me being this Vanquisher? I've fulfilled a prophecy last year and earned that stupid title in my own world. Not sure I want to go through that again."

"But ya dinnae 'ave yellow eyes."

Harry smirked at the dwarf and gave a small, sharp whistle. The flapping of wings were heard as the snowy owl made her appearance and landed gracefully upon the wizard's shoulder, "This is Hedwig. See? Yellow eyes."

"Ah," Gimli appeared appeased or he lost interest because he began drinking once again. Ale dribbled off to the sides of his tankard and down his beard, causing him to wear as much as he drank.

Legolas grimaced at the dwarf's lack of table manners, but Harry gave Gimli a crooked smile. The red bearded man reminded him of his best friend Ron, making the wizard wistfully homesick.

Théoden entered the Golden Hall with Aragorn in his wake. The brunette ranger didn't look pleased, while the blonde king appeared determined. Éowyn leapt up from the bench and met her uncle, bidding him to take a seat and eat with the others. Harry watched Aragorn as the ranger scowled darkly and sat alone at the far end of the table.

The elf stood up and made his way over to his companion and handed Aragorn a filled tankard. Théoden sat at the head of the table and leveled a look at Harry. "Why?"

"Excuse me?"

"Why did you object to banishing Grima?" Théoden accepted a plate of food with a nod of thanks and began eating while awaiting an answer from the young wizard.

Harry grew somber in reflection, "There was a wizarding war between the Dark and Light, Evil and Good. Lord Voldemort was a dark wizard and he wanted to take over the wizarding world. On Middle Earth you have five wizards, on my world we're an eighth of the population.

"My parents fought on the side of the Light against this man along with his three best friends. Peter Pettigrew - Wormtail - was one of those trusted friends, but as fate is cruel, he was also a spy for the Dark.

"You see, there was a prophecy that the one to vanquish the Dark Lord would be born as the seventh month dies. The prophecy was about me, that I would be marked as his equal and grow up to be the one to kill him. To prove his allegiance, Wormtail gave my family to Voldemort for slaughter when I was just a year old. Voldemort killed my parents. Only I survived.

"When I met up with Wormtail twelve years later, I made the same decision that Aragorn had. I took pity on him and spared his life rather than killing him. It was a mistake, a big mistake. Huge." Harry shrugged at the raised eyebrow of the King, "Peter did what he had in the past; he ran back to his master.

"In the end, he betrayed Voldemort. Wormtail was nothing but a traitor, untrustworthy and weak. He was killed by his own master, but not until after Peter had killed many innocents." Harry rubbed his scar, "I'm just saying, anyone with a 'worm' kind of name, can't be trusted."

"Banishment from one's land - one's home - is equivalent to a death sentence." Théoden pointed out to the lad.

"Sounds much like disownment, and that isn't really the same as death. Gandalf said that Saruman - Grima's master - lives to the north. The man could have just scampered back to his side, yeah?" Harry watched the amber liquid in his tankard, "This is your kingdom, and you're the king, so it is your decision. I respect that. I simply voiced an opinion from past experience."

"You have much experience for someone so young." Théoden paused in his eating to look at the boy before him with aged eyes beyond his years, "Gandalf claims you to be the Vanquisher. How is it you came to my lands?"

"That's hard to explain; I'm not exactly sure why it happened really." Harry rummaged in his school bag and reached his whole warm in searching for the parchment. "Oh for…" Harry pulled his wand out and pointed it at his bag, "Accio Luna's parchment."

The scroll flew from the depths and Harry snatched it out of the air as if it were a snitch. He tucked his wand away before holding the letter out in offer to the King as he continued speaking, "Luna, that's a friend of mine from school, gave this to me. She said something about destiny. There was a flash of light. I was portkeyed here. Erm, a portkey is an object that is spelled to transfer a person from one place to another. Not sure how long I was out before I met up with Éomer and his riders."

The whole table had been watching Harry's actions and listening to his tale. Éomer attempted to intercept the parchment to protect his king. Théoden glared at his nephew and reprimanded him gently, "The Vanquisher is a man of honor."

"Thank you, Sir." Harry blushed and hid his reaction with a soft cough. "I'm not sure what the portkey was exactly or if there was an activation word, but it is safe to handle that parchment. Most portkeys can only be used once. I've handled that scroll a time or two. In order for it to be used again, the spell must be recast and that is one spell that I don't know… well, the incantation is portus, but the intent and how it works _exactly_ is beyond me."

Théoden opened the parchment. "It appears to be elvish."

Legolas accepted the parchment and sat up in surprise, "It is the legend."

"Really? Looks like a bunch of scribbles to me. We may speak the same language, but we sure don't write the same."

"We do _not_ speak the same language." The elf looked utterly offended, "Humans speak Westron. First Born speak Sindorian."

Gandalf peered at the young wizard as if he were an interesting bug, "What does your writing look like?

"Sorry, Legolas. I didn't mean to offend." Harry pulled one of his books from his school bag and handed it to Gandalf. "That is this year's N.E.W.T. level Transfiguration text book. See, the writing isn't the same as elvish; not as picturesque."

"Fascinating," Gandalf opened the binding on the book, staring at the block printed words within. "Tis bound like a tome, yet not handwritten."

"It's a book, yeah? They have machines that print the pages and make hundreds of books a day."

"We have parchment, scrolls and tomes, all hand written. This is beyond ingenious. The idea that you can have more than one of a tome in such a short time!"

"Wow," Harry accepted the slip of paper back from Legolas and returned it to his school bag. The idea that his world was so far ahead in technology was rather mind boggling. The wizarding world was far behind the Muggles yet further ahead than these people. Harry scratched the back of his neck and gave a sheepish grin, "So I suppose telling you that we can purchase these in bulk at book stores is something beyond comprehension, yeah?"

"What is a store?" Éowyn blushed when Harry looked at her.

"Erm, like a market?"

"Ah, I've heard of markets. They have them in cities like Minas Tirith."

"Well a store is like a market stall, but in a building… with windows and merchandise, so really the same thing." Harry's head was spinning with the differences of his world and this one. Things were so primitive here. They didn't have books, they probably didn't have electricity noting all the torches everywhere and he had yet to see any of the warriors with a gun, they had swords, bows, axes and spears. Harry suddenly panicked, "Please say you have toilets!"

"Toyettes?"

"Toilets, privies, a loo!" Harry groaned when Éowyn kept shaking her head, "Let me guess. Outhouses?"

"Oh yes, just outside to the left, down the path and-" Éowyn stopped speaking when Harry began banging his head on the table repeatedly saying 'no, no, no, no'. "Then why ask for one?"

Éomer snorted, "I told you he was a strange one."

"You think I'm funny?"

"Yes."

"I amuse you."

"Yes." Éomer's voice was clipped.

Harry smirked, "Rictusempra!"

Éomer snorted, he grinned, he guffawed, he fell to the floor laughing and squirming nonstop as everyone watched in shock. Until Gandalf frowned at the young wizard. Harry sighed, "Finite."

Háma helped Éomer off the floor. The Third Marshal scowled at Harry before he took his seat, "I am not amused."

"You should not abuse your magic. It is meant to aid man," Gandalf lectured.

"Magic isn't something I can turn on or off. It is in me. It is who I am. I am a wizard." Harry shook his head, "Magic can be fun. It can be creative. Avis!" A flock of birds flew from his wand and tittered as they circled over the table, "It can be destructive. Oppugno!" Harry pointed his wand towards the fire and the swarm of birds immediately swooped to attack, each bird exploded in the flames.

"It can throw you into the darkness, nox!" Every flame within the room went out, causing some to gasp, others to whimper, a few shouted. In the confusion, a pitcher broke with a crash. "It can light your path, lumos!" The tip of Harry's wand lit dimly illuminating his face leaving the room cast in shadows. "And it can burn. Incendio!" The flames shot up within the fireplace, burning brightly to the shock of those around the table.

Gandalf gave Harry a wary look and once more the young wizard sighed, "Fine. I'll stop. Reparo." The once broken pitcher on the floor flew together, whole once more. Harry stowed his wand and suddenly found himself being stared at with varying degrees of awe, fear, caution and calculation. "We spoke about this, Gandalf. The title I received was the Vanquisher of Dark Lord Voldemort. Previously I was known as the Boy-Who-Lived because I survived, the Chosen One because of the prophecy and a few other not so nice things. Really, I'm still only Harry."

"I'm sorry to say that you are not only Harry. You are the Vanquisher." Gandalf gave him a sympathetic look, but it didn't ease Harry's tension. "Your coming has been foretold for years. I began to doubt I'd live to see the day."

"So why am I here?"

"To vanquish Sauron."

Harry laughed humorlessly, "That figures." He ran his fingers through his hair, "What can you tell me about him? Is he a wizard? Where is he?"

Gandalf gave the boy a meaningful look, "That is a discussion for another time."

* * *

The week that followed was busy. The whole of Edoras was packing their belongings to make the long trek to Helm's Deep. Aragorn and Gandalf weren't pleased, but it wasn't their decision to make. Everything Harry owned was in his school bag, so the young man helped where he could. When he wasn't helping he was reading, when not reading he was being lectured by Gandalf.

"Drawing undue attention is not the way of the Istari." Gandalf explained once more.

"I'm not Istari. I'm a wizard. Human. Not…"

"Maia," Gandalf prompted and nodded along with Harry, "Yes, that is true, but the fact remains, wizards are meant to be advisors. We were sent to help mankind."

The entire village was leaving in the morning for a week's long journey to the keep. He was expected to ride a horse. Legolas was tasked to teach him how to ride a horse, which he did daily for two hours. With a heavy sigh and an absent minded rub at his sore behind, Harry wasn't looking forward to the trip. The young man gripped his bag and thought of his beloved Firebolt, but just as quickly dismissed the idea. Riding a broom would most definitely bring attention right back to him along with more lectures.

"I got it. Lay low, help out, but I don't see me as the advisor type." Harry frowned as they looked out over the town below. "I'm just a kid, no one listens to teenagers, yeah?"

"You're a wizard, Harry. You would be surprised at who will listen. So think carefully before you speak. It could save lives."

Harry sighed heavily and nodded distractedly, knowing the man was right even if he was loath to admit it. Which brought the Gryffindor to another subject he wasn't too keen on admitting, but realized Gandalf was the ideal person to speak to. "Gandalf, I've noticed something about my magic."

Gandalf peered at the young man before him, "Oh? Is something wrong?"

"Not… wrong, just different." Harry fidgeted before continuing, "It's stronger, especially when I say the incantation."

"Fascinating," Gandalf gave a small grin, "Care to show me?"

"Erm, sure?" Harry found a rock the size of a pillow along the path they were walking and pointed his wand at it and enlarged it. The stone became the size of a medium boulder. The wizard then reduced its size back to normal. Harry stepped back before incanting, "Engorgio."

"Truly fascinating," Gandalf backed away from the large boulder before making his way around the boulder, "Middle Earth is rich in atmospheric magic. It is what the Istari call upon to cast magic."

"Like a druid? You do earth magic?"

Harry watched as Gandalf touched the boulder before he turned his attention to the young wizard. "No, not exactly. Although Radagast could fall into that category, he is more in tune with the lands. While Istari call upon the magic within the beings, plants, even this rock here, in order to cast magic, what we do with the magic is not limited to nature. The very air we breathe is filled with magic."

"Magic is intent and will."

"Yes!"

"That's what we're taught in school when we learn to do nonverbal casting. My magic is different from yours, though. It's within me. Each witch and wizard in my world has a magical core which we call upon," Harry touched the boulder and canted his head, "Perhaps unknowingly I am pulling from my own pool of magic as well as from the magic in this world as you do.

"There's also wandless magic, but I've never been able to pull that off." Harry then pointed his wand at the boulder, "Reducio."

"I would be interested to see what you can accomplish now that you're here. You said you have books with you," Gandalf smiled when Harry nodded, "I strongly urge you to read and learn more. Test your magic here and see how far you can go."

The two wizards began their walk again, "My best friend was teaching me about runes. I have a few of those books, plus all my school books. I'll try to keep any practical work to a minimum or, at the very least, where I won't be seen by too many people."

"We've spoken about Sauron and your part in this war," Their journey brought them to the front steps of the Golden Hall where they paused yet again. Gandalf stroked his beard as he considered his words. "The ring is what keeps him alive. If you can call what he has become 'alive'."

"Voldemort had something similar. We called it a horcrux, it was a soul container. It took a year to find them all and destroy each one," Harry rubbed his lightning bolt scar with a frown. "So we destroy the ring and he becomes vulnerable, mortal."

"In a manner of speaking, yes. Destroy the ring, destroy the man."

"Do we know where this ring is now?" Harry frowned and thought of the contents of his school bag. He had packed it similarly to what Hermione had done with her beaded bag. He packed his clothes, a tent, provisions, potions (healing potions, blood replenishers, salves, dittany, polyjuice, etc.), books (school books along with a few choice selections from the Black library), school supplies (including his cauldron, scales and potion ingredients) and his personal items like two of the three Deathly Hallows (the resurrection stone and invisibility cloak, as he carried the elder wand with him at all times), family photo album and his beloved Firebolt.

"In a manner of speaking…" Harry looked at Gandalf with a raised eyebrow and the old man grinned, "Yes."

"Cryptic as always," Harry chuckled and shook his head. "Am I not allowed to know?"

"The walls have ears," Gandalf frowned and glanced around them.

Harry nodded in understanding and quickly threw an incantation and erected a privacy barrier, "Where is it then?"

Gandalf felt the magic sweep over them and looked at the younger wizard in surprise, "I manage to underestimate you every time. Your magic is so different." He shook his head and waved his hand dismissively, "No matter. The ring is beyond our reach. It is on its way to Mount Doom, for only the fires there can destroy it."

"Wicked."

"Is it?"

"Erm, no, that's an expression. Sorry about that, yeah? So we don't have to search for the ring. What do you really need me for then?"

"To fight with us against Sauron's army." Gandalf set his large hand on the smaller wizard's shoulder and gave it a gently squeeze, "Together we will succeed."

"I'll do what I can." Harry was unsure how much help he would be. He couldn't use a bow, sword or spear, but he had his wits and magic and he hoped it would be enough.

Gandalf patted the teen on the shoulder before he strode away to see to his other tasks, leaving Harry to his own devices. The young wizard sat in the sunshine on the porch, pulled a book from his bag and began reading up on healing charms that Hermione had tried to get him to learn during their time hunting horcruxes. Potions and salves were good, but limited and ingredients weren't likely to be the same or perhaps not available here.

Éowyn was struggling with a bundle when she came upon the young wizard, "Oh." She stopped in her tracks and frowned briefly.

"Can I help?" Harry closed his book, put it back into his bag and tried desperately not to sigh. After all, the people's unease in his presence was his own fault. Harry shouldn't have shown off to shut Éomer up and he had to pay the price of folks being afraid of him, "I'm sorry about… before. I'm really not a bad guy, yeah?"

The blonde looked at the bundle in her hands and back to the young man before her before appearing to make a decision, "Here." Éowyn thrust the bundle at Harry and then pointed down the hill towards a cart, "It needs to be on that cart."

Harry stumbled under the weight and ignored the woman's amusement dancing in her blue eyes. "Sure."

The thought of casting a spell came to mind. Levitation would make carrying the bundle unnecessary or a featherweight charm would make the bundle lighter, but then showing off his magic was what got him into this mess to begin with. Harry opted to struggle with his burden while his thoughts were fleeting to other things as he labored.

A list. Harry felt the sudden urge to create a list. The young man canted his head mentally questioning his reasoning: now why would he need a list? That wasn't really his field of expertise. He missed Hermione. She would have a list, several of them and they would be color coded.

A small grin tugged at him as his mind jumped to his other best friend. Ron would be off hiding in the stable skiving off from the manual labor. Or in some kitchen eating as if he was starving to death.

Harry looked near the perimeter wall and saw the companions. He could hear Gimli's laughter. George and Fred would be somewhere with Gimli causing mischief. They would be planning a colossal prank that would leave the masses in stitches of laughter.

And Neville would be wherever the plant life was. Luna…

Harry heaved the bundle onto the cart. Thinking about his friends and what they would have or would not have done was a useless waste of his time. His friends weren't there. Harry was very much alone. There was a new Dark Lord to kill and Harry hadn't the time to dwell on his past. The young wizard decided to focus on his current situation. Too many lives were depending on him.

Groaning, Harry made his way back up the hill. It just figured. Vanquishing one evil man wasn't enough; nope… fate wasn't done messing with Harry Potter.

Harry came to a stop half way up the hill and he snorted in amusement. Apparently Éowyn wasn't through torturing him either. Awaiting his return were four more bundles and she was standing with a fifth in her arms. She smiled at him, "Come on then. You volunteered!"


	4. I Am a Wizard

**AN:** As always, there will be quotes that are recognizable. After all, they have some great lines! Okay, so I think I'm done reminding you about the quotes. It gets kinda redundant!

* * *

**I Am a Wizard**

The trek was long and tedious. Harry had been traveling alongside the three Fellowship companions riding on two horses - Gimli continued to ride behind Legolas. He wasn't sure what the hurry was about - the war was at a lull, or that was what he had understood from all of the late night talks. The people of Rohan were being lead to Helm's Deep, a stronghold. Some people walked while others rode; their journey was lengthy and grueling yet the people of Rohan refused to despair.

Prior to leaving Edoras, Théoden had sent Éomer off to patrol the lands as it was the Third Marshal's sworn duty. Harry had watched him ride off with the Rohirrim at his heels, leading soldiers to the outer lying establishments. The wizard realized he missed the man's teasing for Éomer had a calm, stern presence that Harry found noticeably absent.

After two days of traveling, Gandalf had become unsettled by Éomer's absence. The elderly Istar had left to find the Riders of the Rohirrim spouting a cryptic message to Aragorn - who for all intents and purposes - reacted as if he understood what was implied, 'Look to my coming on the first light of the fifth day, at dawn look to the east.'

Harry did his best not to complain about the excursion, but the fact that he was carrying a tent with him - and Gandalf had refused to allow him to use it - was a sore point for the younger wizard. While Harry understood Gandalf's reasoning - the tent could have induced unwanted attention from the enemy - there were such things as wards.

The young man was leaning against his horse's flank, mentally preparing to mount the beast in order to continue the journey. He'd been told that they'd arrive at Helm's Deep within a day's time. At least that was what Háma had said, but then - as Harry reflected back to their conversation - the king's guard was probably trying to shut the wizard up. What time they would arrive at their destination, no one could say. Harry just knew his arse was more than sore and weary of being in that hard saddle.

If only he had a cushioned seat, perhaps the ride wouldn't be so grueling. Harry blinked as that thought was processed. The words of his best friend came back to haunt him - 'Are you a witch, or not?' - granted Ron had been talking to Hermione at the time, but the sentiment held true for Harry at that moment. Was he not a wizard?

Harry took his wand and applied a cushioning charm to the saddle. Pressing on the seat, Harry was pleased at the soft, supple, springier feel of the leather. Grinning Harry confirmed, "I am a wizard."

"Aye, lad, y' are." Gimli gave him an odd look and Harry blushed before he turned away, mumbling a 'erm… yeah'.

Breakfast had been meager, but Harry didn't mind. It was more than he had when the 'Golden Trio' had camped last year while horcrux hunting. They had gone without food many times, so Harry wasn't about to complain about the bread, hard cheese and water.

The wizard was waiting to get moving again. Boredom wasn't fun at the best of times. Harry pulled a book from his bag and looked for a place to sit. Frowning, the teen realized he had two choices: the hard ground or his horse's recently spelled saddle. Cocking his head to the side, Harry realized there was a third option: magic. The young wizard could have tried his luck in conjuring a chair - a spell he had recently read in his transfiguration book - or enlarge a rock and cushion it.

Harry opted for the rock. With wand in hand - a quick glance to ensure no one was nearby - and two spells later, Harry sat on the newly formed seat, sighing with relief at the softness. Returning his focus to the book, he began reading the healing book again. Harry's attention was peaked when he began reading about broken bones and could be heard muttering incantations - ferula - while gesturing wand movements.

"It's time to go," Aragorn stated. The ranger had ridden to Harry's side. "Keep a sharp eye out. We've sent a scout ahead, there are-"

Hedwig swooped from the sky and screeched a warning. Harry and Aragorn stilled immediately and looked to see what had caused her alarm just as Legolas bellowed from a distant rock. "Wargs!"

Théoden called out for the riders to attack the enemy and protect the people. He was sending the women, children and any unarmed folks on their way to Helm's Deep. Harry only half listened as Éowyn tried to argue about being sent away from the fighting.

Harry stuffed his book in his bag before securing the strap over his head and grabbed his holly wand. Without a word spoken, he mounted his horse and went to follow Aragorn and Gimli to where Legolas had already drawn his bow. Théoden called out to him, "Istar! You are to travel with Éowyn and the others to Helm's Deep. We cannot spare anyone to protect you. Go!"

"I don't need anyone's protection."

Théoden growled, his patience was apparently already thin from arguing with his niece. "You will do as I say! You cannot wield a sword. You are unarmed and a liability. I-"

"First, I am not unarmed." Harry showed his wand to the king as physical proof of his claim, "Second, I don't need protection. Last, with all due respect, you are not my king. I was brought here to help defeat the evil in this world of yours and that is what I intend to do. I must help the Fellowship!"

With that proclamation and a soft kick to the horse's sides, Harry rode forward to join the fight. He had no idea what would be over the next rise, but he'd been in a battle before. The growling and cries - both for battle and of pain - could be heard as Harry approached.

When he breached the crest of the hill, Harry pulled his horse to a dead stop and stared gaping in morbid fascination. His heart raced with adrenaline as his brain attempted to absorb what his eyes were seeing. These creatures were nothing Harry had ever seen before. The wargs apparently were one of the two species before him: man-like creatures with skin as black as pitch with sharp-jagged-yellow teeth and enormous wolf like beasts that the dark men rode.

There were pools of blood: black and red. The coppery smell hit him hard. The horse neighed and did a side stepped prance, fidgeting under the Istar, "Easy, girl. I'll protect us. We won't have to go too close to the fight… hopefully."

Harry had done his best to ignore the stench of blood and the cries of beast and man, urging the gray horse forward. As soon as Harry felt he was close enough, the wizard let loose with every non-lethal spell he could think of. Spells tripped off his tongue as quickly as he thought of them and with a shout of 'Defensiva Oppositum!' the axe hurled his direction fell short of maiming Harry's horse and possibly severing his leg from the knee

Háma was soon beside Harry, having decapitated the black skinned man-creature and drove his sword through the beast it rode, "Kill the orcs, but don't forget about the wargs. They're bloodthirsty and as dangerous as those that ride them."

Without a backward glance the King's guard was off again. Harry's heart was racing and thoughts of perhaps healing the wounded would best suit him. These orcs and wargs were something he hadn't faced before and the evil, vicious nature of the creatures chilled him to the bone.

Harry dismounted and ran towards a fallen guard. Pushing the warrior onto his back - using all of his weight to shift the man – Harry casted a quick diagnostic charm. The man's heartbeat was weak and he had lost a lot of blood. There was a great deal of bleeding from the rather severe injury, but somehow his organs weren't damaged. The laceration ran clear across his torso. The man would need healing as well as blood replenishing potions. Harry's mind was reeling as spells and incantations were discarded one by one as insufficient and settled for something not in any textbook… or at least not any standard healing book.

The song-like incantation was repeated three times - 'Vulnera Sanentur, Vulnera Sanentur, Vulnera Sanentur' - just as Harry had remembered Snape healing Draco Malfoy during his fifth year at Hogwarts. Harry slowly moved his wand over the wound and watched it heal and close.

There was a snarl and a snap that cut off the sound of a scream. It was a blood curdling shriek that had Harry spinning around, wand held out as he stared wide eyed: the spray of blood, the snapping jaws of a warg and Háma's body was shook like a ragdoll. Harry almost lost his breakfast at the sight.

It was as the warg licked its lips hungrily looking to make a meal of the man that snapped Harry out of his stupor. With a slash of his wand and an outraged cry of 'Sectumsempra!' Harry ripped the warg in two. The man he had been healing was long forgotten as Harry dropped to his knees beside the guard who had earlier saved him.

"See?" Háma groaned, but managed to grin through gritted teeth at Harry. "I told you to watch out for those beasts."

"Yes, you did. Now I need to heal you. Lay still please." Harry ran a diagnostic spell and winced when he read the results, "You have muscle damage and you're losing a lot of blood from that broken leg. Let's get you fixed up." First he pulled out his healing book to ensure he remembered the spell he had just read about. Harry pointed his wand at **Háma**'s broken leg, "Ferula!" The young wizard was amazed to see the break bind and splint as the bone snapped back in place. Harry grimaced when Háma cried out, but continued with the next spell he found. "Sorry, mate." He read it three times before speaking the incantation, "Sanare Nervos."

The man's muscle mended slowly, pale skin knitted back together. Harry then flipped pages quickly and moved his wand towards Háma's torso to heal the broken and cracked ribs, "Sarcio Sceletus"

Háma let out a breath he had been holding in a sigh of relief. "Thank you, Istar."

"Least I can do for the man who saved my life, yeah?" Harry pulled two vials out of his case. The wizard urged the man to drink them, "Blood replenisher and healing potion. They aren't the most pleasant tasting things, but they work brilliantly."

Harry was pleased to see Háma drink the potions and he didn't bother to hide his amusement when the man made a face at the taste. "Listen, my supplies of potions is limited. Mums the word about them, yeah?" Háma frowned, but nodded stiffly. Harry gave him a grateful grin, "Stay safe, I need to see if I'm needed anywhere else."

Háma gripped his sword as Harry looked out over the field. There was so much blood, so much death. Harry could hear the cries of his classmates as the Death Eaters cut them down. The wizard stowed his holly wand and took hold of the elder wand. A coldness settled in the boy's emerald eyes when he began throwing cutting curses at any orc or warg within reach. Each spell muttered or nonverbally casted grew more vicious and the wizard's growl turned feral.

The battle raged on for some time, how long exactly, Harry was unsure. The stench of blood filled his nostrils, his robes grew heavy with the weight of the blood that soaked it. At some point, the wizard had grabbed a discarded sword and was found hacking at a warg that had thought him an easy, tasty treat.

"Harry!" The teen's eyes were wild. Harry whipped around; wand pointed at the one who dared call his name with a curse on his lips. Legolas stood before him and had moved just as quickly as the wizard. His bow was drawn with an arrow pointed at the boy's heart. "Stand down. It's over, Harry."

"Over…" Harry blinked. His eyes slowly focused on the elf standing before him, recognition flickered as the elf's words seeped into his distraught mind. His wand arm dropped like lead at his side, the sword slipped from his grip to the blood soaked ground and the teen trembled with fury and adrenaline. He had used a considerable amount of his magic and had no pepper up potions. Harry's voice was cold, "Evil is never over. It simply hides, licking its wounds, until it is ready to strike again."

Théoden gave Harry a wary look, but didn't contradict the wizard. Instead the king began looking for any survivors while the teen tucked the elder wand away and opted for his less volatile holly wand. When survivors were found, Harry did his best to heal them. Some were beyond his help, but he assisted those he could.

The howl of pain and frustration that radiated from Gimli caught his attention and Harry stumbled over to where the dwarf stood beside a distraught elf. The red head growled, "Dinnae lie, orc scum!"

Gripping his wand, Harry looked from the cackling orc to the two friends. The hideous orc coughed up black blood as he opened his hand, displaying a necklace. His dying breath cracked, "You're too late."

Legolas had removed the piece of jewelry from the creatures gnarled hand with such reverence, that Harry was utterly confused at its significance. "Too late… for what?"

"Aragorn," Legolas looked over the cliff to the ravine below. "He fell…"

"Buggering hell!" Harry whipped his bag open and cried out, "Accio Firebolt."

The broom flew to his hand and Harry kicked off without a warning. "Take the wounded to Helm's Deep, I'll meet you there and take care of who I can. Don't wait for me. I'll find you."

Ignoring Legolas' and Gimli's cries of warning or fear or whatever it was they were hollering, the young wizard zoomed over the side of the cliff in search for the King of Men. Harry's eyes scanned the immediate area below where they had stood looking down with no luck. Flying back and forth, eyes scanning around, Harry finally pulled his wand and cast, "Homenum Revelio!"

There were no humans in the vicinity. Was it possible the orc lied? Naturally it was possible, but what good would it have done him? That was an easy one to answer as well: he caused doubt and fear amongst the companions.

Flying beside him was Hedwig, Harry called out to her. "Find Aragorn!"

The river below him was moving relatively swift, not overly so, but thoughts of traveling with the flow of the water came to mind. Harry pulled his broom around and began zigzagging his way downstream. "Homenum Revelio!"

Hedwig let out a screech, gaining Harry's immediate attention. She then circled twice before swooping towards the shore. With a gasp of 'Aragorn' Harry gripped his wand, lowered his body to his broom and sped to the eastern shore of the river. Harry hopped off his broom the moment he was low enough and gripped the soggy leather at Aragorn's shoulder and pulled as hard as he could to pull the man right-side up. "Good girl, Hedwig!"

Harry dropped to his knees. Aragorn wasn't breathing. His lips were turning blue. His heart beat was sluggishly and Harry let fly a series of expletives that would make a dwarf blush. "You have got to be taking the piss! Foul, foul, bloody hell you buggering wanker! Nancy boy! I should just let you die! I can't believe you're making me do this." Harry peered at Hedwig, "You will tell no one!"

Ignoring the indignant hoot from his familiar, Harry tilted Aragorn's head back to open the air passage, squeezed his nose shut, opened his mouth and grimaced before reluctantly placing his own mouth over the man's to force air into the ranger's lungs. It took two more tries before Aragorn coughed up the water in his lungs and rolled to his side to purge everything he possibly could. By the time Aragorn could focus his bleary blue eyes Harry had backed away and rinsed his mouth with river water… upstream, of course. Harry held out a healing potion, "Drink this."

The ranger looked at the small vial warily and tried to hand it back when the wizard pressed it into his palm, "What is it?" Aragorn's voice was hoarse and he coughed a few more times before Harry could respond. The man sat up and weaved slowly, "Woah."

"It's a healing potion. I'm surprisingly good at that making this one, but I don't have an endless supply of potions or ingredients, so don't go spreading it around that I have them, yeah?" They waited a few moments as Aragorn's equilibrium returned to him. Harry sighed heavily when the man still hadn't drunk the potion. The young wizard took the vial back, uncorked it and insisted, "Drink!"

Aragorn frowned, but he did indeed drink the potion which prompted the ranger to cough once again at the foul taste. "Disgusting."

"Yeah, it is, but it works wonderfully. You'll feel loads better by the time we get to Helm's Deep." Harry stood and topped the empty vial before dropping it in his school bag, "Which reminds me, any idea which way to go from here?"

"Harry, how did you find me?" Aragorn looked around them and noted there weren't any horses around.

"Legolas and Gimli found out you took a dive off the cliff from a boasting orc. Nasty thing thought that it was funny up until he died. I knew they couldn't get to you, so I flew down. Trouble is, I can't fly us both back up. Actually I could, but not very well and it would be damned risky." Harry showed Aragorn his broom and laughed at the incredulous look from the future king of Gondor. "Come on, up you go."

Harry offered his hand to Aragorn who looked at him skeptically, but eventually the man did take the offer of help. Before the ranger attempted to walk, he pointed. "Helm's Deep is west."

"Excellent." Harry looked up the cliff as they began their trek, "Do we need to head up or can we get there from down here?"

"There is a path that will take us upwards as well as west. We will come to it eventually." Aragorn rolled his shoulders and gave the young man another grin, "That potion was foul yet it worked quite well. Thank you for sharing it with me."

Harry dropped his Firebolt back into his school bag. "Well to tell the truth, it would have been nearly impossible for me to have used magic instead. I had spent too much energy healing wounds and slicing wargs before I had reached you. Magical exhaustion can cause too much damage on a wizard; it would have sent me into a coma for days. While I have a larger magical core than the average wizard, my magic is not unlimited."

Aragorn nodded thoughtfully as Harry explained things. This was the most they had spoken since Harry's arrival in Middle-Earth. Taking in the wizard's small stature the ranger grinned and shared his thoughts, "I must confess. I'm rather surprised you weren't sent away with the others."

"Oh," Harry grinned sheepishly, "I may have some trouble with King Théoden when we get to the keep. He tried to send me with Éowyn and the women, but I told him no. I said that I wasn't going and I wouldn't be a liability… not that I said it quite so politely. I may as well have told the man to bugger off."

"I'm not sure I know what that means." Aragorn eyed the younger man questioningly and Harry dug his hands into his pockets.

"When you tell someone to bugger off… well, it isn't nice. It is like telling them to go to hell." Aragorn still looked confused. Harry blinked, "You don't have a hell, then? Do you have gods or a deity?"

Chuckling Aragorn nodded, "Sure. There's Eru Ilúvatar, the creator. There are a number of Maiar gods. Then we have the Valar-"

"Yeah, there's no way I'm going to remember all of that. So, let's say that with these Gods, you have a heaven… where you go if you're good and then there is hell… where you go if you're bad." Aragorn blinked at the boy and Harry sighed. "Honestly? There's only one place you can go when you die?"

"Yes. Men die. Elves go to Valinor and I believe the dwarves go back to the stone. You'd have to ask Gimli to confirm," Aragorn pointed to the path to their left and the pair began making their way upwards.

Harry shook his head, "Forget about hell then. Bugger off is the same as saying 'go away' or 'leave me alone', but again, not in such polite terms."

Aragorn sighed, "Harry-"

"Yes, I'll apologize when we get to the keep. Providing the bloke lets me in."

"What did you say to him?"

Harry canted his head, "Is that…"

"My horse," Aragorn walked over to the patient steed, "You came for me?"

The horse neighed as if communicating with the man.

"Thank you, friend," Chuckling, Aragorn nimbly mounted his stallion and held out a hand for Harry. "Come, we should be at Helm's Deep in no time."

"You can ride," Harry grinned and opened his school bag to get his Firebolt, "I'll fly."

"That doesn't require magic?"

"Brooms have their own magic," Harry grimaced, "But Gandalf did say I shouldn't bring unnecessary attention to myself. Oh alright."

As soon as Harry was settled behind Aragorn, the stallion made for the keep. If the youngster had hoped that Aragorn forgot his question, that notion was quickly dispelled when the ranger once again asked, "So tell me. What did you say to King Théoden?"

"I may have said something about not needing protection, which Háma proved me wrong. I said I wasn't unarmed and," Harry quickly mumbled the last bit, "thathewasn'tmyking."

"What was that?" Half turning in the saddle to gape at the boy, Aragorn's wide eyes belied the idea that he hadn't heard what Harry said.

The wizard grimaced and repeated what he had said in a more normal cadence, "He isn't my king. Back home England has a queen and a crowned prince, not a king. Besides, according to what Gandalf and I spoke of in our daily talks, if I did have a king it would be you… not him."

Aragorn straightened in the saddle. Harry could hear the grin in Aragorn's voice when he spoke, "Thank you, Harry. Still, we need Théoden's army so we don't want to isolate the man."

"Healing his people should go far in getting my arse back into his good graces." Harry gave a small shrug that Aragorn had probably missed seeing, but possibly felt the wizard's movement. "Don't see Théoden not letting me into the keep seeing how I can heal his people a spot faster than they could on their own or with this medieval medicine your lot can give."

"That doesn't excuse your behavior," Aragorn's voice held no humor in it.

Knowing the man wasn't looking his way, Harry allowed a childish eye roll, "Yes, your majesty."

* * *

Created spell(s):

Defensiva Oppositum - Charms: protective barrier (First used in chapter 2)  
Sanare Nervos - Charms: healing spell, heal muscles  
Sarcio Sceletus - Transfiguration: Repair bones

**AN:** I realize that Vulnera Sanentur is the counter curse for Sectumsempra. I used it for reasons:

1. I didn't feel like creating another spell.  
2. Sectumsempra is described as causing a deep cut or gash, so its counter curse in my AU world can be used for certain wounds.  
3. This is AU ... obviously ... so liberties are taken. Just sayin'


	5. I Don't Sing

**AN: **I have to admit that I don't normally read these author notes, but find them rather handy when I'm writing.

Thanks to everyone that wrote reviews. They make me all warm and squishy… even the not so shiny ones because they make me think of what I'm doing wrong. So if you have something to say, even if it isn't shiny, feel free… providing it isn't in a huge slam that makes me cringe and want to smack someone. Those I read, pout and then try to ignore.

That said, there's apparently a few points that were missed which means either the reader didn't notice, or I failed to make it clear. Also a bit of insight to questions asked:

1. Grima wasn't killed, he was sent away, banished. Hence the conversation between Harry and Théoden in Chapter 3.

2. I admit, I love that whole 'look to the east on the 5th day' thing so yes, I sent Éomer away, but only him with his troops so that means that the other two Marshals are there with their troops. So Théoden has 2/3 of his army.

3. This story isn't overly original. I never said it would go off to left field. Battles will happen. They won't happen exactly as they do in the movies, but they will happen.

4. No pairings is only referring to Harry.

5. Just because Harry listens to Gandalf, it doesn't mean he follows his advice blindly. He takes what folks say as advice, not the law. The boy has become more confident over the years.

6. His glasses… *facepalm* I wish I had thought about that. No those aren't common to Middle Earth.

7. Harry uses his holly wand unless otherwise stated. I hope that was made clear in Chapter 4.

8. Cyber cookies for Joe Lawyer! Harry likes Aragorn and most of what he stands for. He gets frustrated with Théoden, but really has no intention of following any king.

Bottom line is that Harry listens to advice and does what he thinks is right.

So if I lose readers, I'm sorry. I do my best to entertain and if this story isn't for you, then I wish you well. For those still reading, I hope you enjoy.

Thanks,

Ajellah

* * *

**I Don't Sing.**

"You're late."

Aragorn gave his friend a crooked grin. In return, Legolas wrapped the future king in a one armed hug and slipped the pendant into Aragorn's palm. The ranger looked at the jewelry and sighed heavily in relief. Aragorn spoke in a language Harry didn't understand, but the tone was unmistakably filled with gratitude.

The young wizard looked away from the two and scanned the area near them, noting all of the villagers blatantly looking their way and peering at him with open curiosity. Harry found he preferred the inquisitiveness to the fear he had once seen from these people.

"Legolas?" Harry prompted, awaiting the elf's attention before speaking again, "Where is the infirmary?"

"Harry…"

"I haven't forgotten, Aragorn. I simply believe I will do the people more good by healing their guards than making nice with royalty." Harry stood firm and was relieved when the ranger gave in, even if the man had hesitated to do so.

Legolas looked questioningly at both men, but upon receiving no response, he answered Harry, "Come, I will show you."

"Thank you." Harry followed the elf, feeling numerous eyes upon him, but really - after so many years living within the wizarding world - the young Istar was accustomed to the unwelcomed attention.

The pair arrived near a wooden door and both paused before moving further. Harry couldn't seem to stop his gaze from staring at the drying pools of blood leading to the door that was also smudged with the same dull red. Legolas gave Harry a contemplative look, "You are an enigma, Istar."

The wizard gave the elf a bemused look. "I don't try to be. I just do what I think is right. Thanks for showing me the way."

Legolas gave Harry an amused look, "Thank you for bringing Aragorn back."

"It's why I'm here," Harry gave a small shrug, "Or so I was told. According to Gandalf, I'm to help the Fellowship and that's what I intend to do."

"And healing these people…"

"Will ease Aragorn's mind and allow you three to concentrate on protecting the others." Harry looked at the bloody door once again, "Besides, I think I prefer healing to killing. Especially after seeing all that blood and death with the wargs. I've seen enough death for two lifetimes."

Legolas nodded, seeing the wisdom in the young man's words. "Then I will leave you to it. I believe Lady Éowyn is within."

Harry wrinkled his nose at the door. He wasn't looking forward to seeing any of the royal family after his rude - according to Aragorn - behavior with the King of Rohan, but Harry had already decided that the infirmary was where he should be at the moment. Besides, there was no turning back now that Legolas had walked away and - although Harry could wander around aimlessly - he didn't know the way to wherever it was the others were gathering. "Aguamenti," Harry allowed the spray of water to wash away the blood from the door and ground before he adjusted his school bag and entered the infirmary.

The room reminded him of the infirmary at Hogwarts with less light, no magic, no Madam Pomfrey and low cots instead of comfortable beds with stiff white sheets. There were fewer wounded than Harry had expected: roughly a half dozen. Apparently orcs and wargs didn't wound often; killing seemed to be their preference. Harry squared his shoulders and chose to ignore those morbid thoughts, opting to concentrate on the living and moved to the first cot.

The man was groaning, but didn't move as he clutched his side. Harry did a quick diagnostic and was pleased to see minimal damage. Once again, the young man pulled out his book on healing and searched for a spell. Concentrating on the small bleeding veins, he repaired the cuts and sagged in relief when the patient breathed easier.

"What are you doing?" Éowyn was at Harry's side when she became aware of his actions and crouched beside the man on the cot. "What did you do?" She looked up at Harry with wide frightened eyes.

"You still don't trust me." It wasn't a question, but the hurt from her cynicism surprised the wizard, causing him to defend his actions. "I didn't hurt the man, he had bleeders. Here," Harry pulled back the man's hand and showed Éowyn the bloated bruised area. "I need to make a small cut to drain the excess blood that is pooled in there."

Harry sighed when the woman didn't move out of his way still looking skeptical at his words. Harry handed his healing book to Éowyn. "Not that you can read this since it's written in English, but look at the pictures, perhaps that will give you an idea of what I'm doing, yeah? In the meantime, please move. There are people that may still need my help after this man."

Éowyn took the book and pressed it to her chest as she clutched it. She stepped back to give the young man room to work and looked towards the healer at the other end of the room, "I am unsure how the healer will feel about your… assistance."

No longer impeded by Éowyn, Harry touched the man's side with gentle, probing fingers. Harry began speaking to the man who was half conscious. "I will need to relieve the pressure. This may be a bit uncomfortable, but it will help."

Casting a small cutting hex, the man on the bed groaned through clenched teeth making the sound more of an angry hiss. "Easy now, don't move. Tergeo," Harry siphoned as much blood as he could from the area and was pleased to see the swelling lessen. "Episkey!"

Éowyn gasped softly as the skin repaired itself, leaving no sign of scarring, yet the bruise was still there. "That was amazing."

Harry gave Éowyn a crooked grin before running another diagnostic spell. Harry was done healing the guard and was ready to move on to the next patient. Before leaving his side, he spoke gently to him, "With a little rest, you'll be fine. You'll be a bit tender and-"

"What sorcery are you weaving on that man?" The harsh voice grated at the raven haired teen and he turned his attention to - Harry assumed - the healer.

"I don't do 'sorcery'… whatever that is. I use magic. This was healing magic." Harry didn't like being yelled at for doing something right. It was bad enough getting reprimanded for something stupid he'd done, "I am helping these people."

"This is _my_ infirmary! You can't just-"

"Silencio!" The healer continued to rant sans sound as Éowyn covered her mouth at Harry's action. The young wizard spared her a glance and was unsure of her reaction. She was either upset or very amused, but at least she wasn't interrupting. "Listen, your loud, shrill voice is disturbing and frightening the patients. As I was saying, I've been told to aid Middle Earth by protecting its people and helping the Fellowship.

"Today I healed two men out at the battlefield - one of which was bleeding to death because his cut was too deep. The other… well Háma saved my life, there was no way I could allow him to die after that. My life debt is repaid. I killed a bunch of oversized hyenas on steroids and man-like creatures with ugly teeth. Then I healed _another_ half dozen or so guards once the fighting was over. If that wasn't draining enough on my magic reserves, I flew over a cliff to find Aragorn-"

"Aragorn lives?" Éowyn interjected.

"What? Oh, yes, Aragon is alive somewhere talking to your uncle." Harry graced Éowyn with a response before turning his attention back to the annoyed, red-faced healer. "My patience is very thin because I'm beyond knackered. I can't rest until I have seen to everyone here and…" Harry sighed heavily, "Well, I still have to… apologize to… someone."

Harry had to catch his breath and calm his growing anxiety towards the healer. A mischievous grin made its way across his features and the Gryffindor took a page from the Weasley twins. With a discreet 'confondus' to keep the healer out of his way and a distracted wave of his wand and a lazy 'finite' thrown towards the healer, Harry moved to the next bed to see what could be done for the next patient. The guard was half sitting in the bed with a hand over a large bandage that crossed most of his torso. He had been listening to the exchange and grinned crookedly at the young man, "That was you, then. I thought I dreamed it. You… sang something."

"Chanted an incantation, your wound was rather deep and it's the only way I know to deal with those sorts of wounds. I'm sorry about the scarring. Dittany is the one plant… ointment… thing… I know that can deal with scarring and I have never learned to make it. Not even sure if I have the recipe in my potions book and… sorry, rambling. I tend to do that when I'm tired." The man looked utterly confused at the mention of dittany, not that Harry had noticed since he was running a diagnostic spell, "You're slightly dehydrated, but it isn't too bad. I'd wager it was from all the blood you lost out there on the field. You'd do well with a blood replenisher, but I haven't any to spare. I'm going to have to learn about your herbs and such."

"I have no idea what you're talking about," the patient shook his head with a soft chuckle, "and you're rambling again."

"Right, sorry." With a grin, Harry plucked a cup from the small table beside the cot and looked around for a water pitcher. Seeing none nearby, Harry opted for another spell, "Aguamenti." Helping the man drink, Harry looked around the room at the other beds. "Are these the only ones that survived?"

"Not all were grievously injured, many felt fine after you healed them and those that died…"

"Hmm," Harry eased the man back on the pillows. "Be sure to eat beets and liver, not necessarily together, but they're both good for your blood." Well, that was according to what Madam Pomfrey had told him during one of his visits to the Hospital Wing. "You'll be up by tomorrow morning, but a bit tender. Try to get some rest."

"Thank you…"

"Harry," the young wizard grinned. "My name is Harry and you're welcome."

"I'm Haleth. I am brother to Háma." Haleth gave Harry a smile, "Thank you for saving him as well."

* * *

The hour was late and Harry was beyond fatigued. Éowyn had departed for the hall to help with dinner some time ago, leaving the wizard with the disgruntled healer. The Gryffindor trudged up the steps in the direction the ungrateful healer had vaguely pointed.

"There ya are."

Harry looked up and squinted tiredly, "Excuse me?"

Gimli grinned at the wizard, "Aragon was worryin' over ya." The dwarf belched before slapping a heavy hand to the young man's shoulder nearly buckling the weary boy's knees, "Come on then, lad. There's food an' drink ta be had."

Snorting, the wizard contradicted Gimli's idea of why he was sent to fetch Harry. "Aragorn wasn't worried. He just wants to make sure I don't forget to…" Harry grimaced and let the words fade.

"Ferget ta wha'?"

"Have you seen Hedwig?" Harry quickly changed the subject.

Luckily Gimli had had a few ales and was easily led astray. "Aye, she was up in them rafters at th' hall. Found herself a mouse, she did."

Harry wrinkled his nose at the mental image of his familiar feasting on a mouse, but held his comments to himself. His stomach grumbled its discontent, "I'm a bit peckish. Is there much food left?"

"Aye, should be. There be plenty of ale, too."

"It's probably not a good idea for me to drink anything stronger than water. I've used too much magic today." Harry hitched his bag on his shoulder as they made it to the front doors of the hall. Gimli pushed it open and practically shoved Harry in first.

Háma was the first to notice the arrival of the newest Fellowship travel companion and raised a tankard to toast, "To Harry!"

The young man came to an abrupt stop and blinked as each person at the tables raised their tankard and cheered for him. The laughter and cheering was rather thunderous and overwhelming. Even Théoden had tipped his tankard to the wizard before sipping at his ale. "Erm… Thanks?" Harry pointed at Háma, "You shouldn't drink too much. You're blood level is still low; you'll pass out if you're not careful. Make sure to eat plenty of rare meat for a few days, preferably liver."

Háma laughed good-naturedly and set down the tankard, "Healers orders."

Éowyn walked to Harry and handed him back his book. "I found it…"

"Confusing since you couldn't read the English words?"

"Fascinating! The images move. Frightened me at first, but it isn't as if the diagrams can hurt me." Éowyn watched as Harry slipped his book back into his school bag. "Your bag holds many wonders."

"You have no idea."

"That frightens and intrigues me." She shook her head to clear her thoughts. Éowyn led Harry back to the table and soon sat a plate filled with food in front of him. "You must be weary from your time in the infirmary. You should eat."

"Thanks." Harry was situated near the head of a table beside Gimli, across from Háma and - unfortunately - on the right side of the king who he ignored as best he could, "I met your brother, Haleth." Taking a bite of the meat, Harry wasn't concerned that his food was no longer warm, it was simply heavenly to eat real food again. "He's doing well and should be up in the morning."

"You have my thanks, Harry. I saw him before he was taken to the infirmary. He mentioned a dream that he had on the field of a raven haired angel that sang to him." Harry sputtered as Háma grinned, "Don't be ashamed. From what Haleth said, you sing well."

"Sing?" Gimli cried out, raising his tankard over his head and spilling his ale as he shouted, "Sing us a song, lad."

Harry groaned as his mind reeled, trying in vain to think of a suitable song he could attempt to sing without having a mob lynch him. Love songs were immediately tossed out as unacceptable. The teen shook his head and opted for straight out denial, "I don't sing."

Aragorn had caught the end of their conversation and gave the young man an odd look when he called out, "Nonsense! Háma claims you sang for him. Honor us with a song." The ranger's voice carried across the table. Harry realized the look the man gave said, 'do it.' But the young man wasn't so easily swayed.

"That was a healing chant, not a song." Harry whipped out his wand and refilled the tankards around the table, "Besides your ale is getting stale."

"Blasphemy!" Gimli drank heavily from his tankard and Harry went back to his food.

Around the tables were the Fellowship, guards and people Harry didn't recognize. Théoden watched as the young wizard kept his head down and ate heartily, "You did well today, young Istar."

Harry stilled and set down his fork. He folded his hands on his lap and swallowed hard, finding it nearly impossible to meet the king's gaze, "Thank you, sir."

"You saved many lives… perhaps…" The king met the wizard's gaze at last. There was amusement in Théoden's eyes, "Perhaps I was too hasty to insist you leave with the others."

"Perhaps," Harry readily agreed, but the apology had been put off long enough. "Yet I had no right to be as blunt and rude as I was. For that I do apologize."

Théoden gave Harry a crooked grin and tipped his drink to him, "To the Vanquisher!"

Once more tankards were raised and Harry blushed.

* * *

Sorry this was a day late. My daughter was busy at work. Have a great weekend!


	6. That is Both Wise and Foolish

**AN:** KShara Khan, your review was hilarious. Thanks for the laugh.

* * *

**That is Both Wise and Foolish**

Harry had just finished eating breakfast when his familiar showed up. He held out his arm and she landed smoothly. A grin graced the young wizard's features as the memory of breakfasts in the Great Hall and the awe inspiring sight of hundreds of owls swooping in to deliver the mail. Hedwig screeched at her human to get his attention, pulling him out of his thoughts. The snowy owl then dropped a piece of leather on the table in front of him.

"What is that, Hedwig?" Harry frowned in confusion, but dutifully offered Hedwig a rasher for her obvious - yet surprisingly obscure - warning. She nipped at his finger before accepting the reward for a job well done and departed for the rafters. Harry looked at the piece of rough cloth and looked up at his familiar, "I don't understand."

Legolas jumped up and crossed the room quickly. "May I see that?"

"Sure," Harry handed the leather to the elf and wasn't surprised when Legolas growled. The wizard expected the swatch to be bad news because of the specific screech Hedwig had used - the cry of a bad omen.

"Uruk-hai," Legolas looked up at the owl who stared back with unblinking yellow eyes. "It is a warning."

Harry resisted rolling his eyes at the obviousness of the elf's statement and opted for a question, "What is uruk-hai?"

"You remember the orcs?" At Harry's nod Legolas explained, "Uruk-hai are similar to orcs, only they are tall like I am and broad like Aragorn. They are bred for war and destruction."

"Bloody hell," Harry's gaze bored into the elf that was taller than Remus before looking to the rafters at the bearer of bad news, "Hedwig, how soon will they be here? A week?" Hedwig swiveled her head towards her human and stared at him. Harry huffed, "Shorter?" The owl hooted, "Bugger… a day?" Harry's familiar hooted once more and the wizard would have sworn his blood ran cold at her response. "We have to tell Aragorn."

* * *

The two kings - current and future - sat with their council: Legolas, Gimli, the Guard Captain and two of the three Marshals of the Riddermark. Harry sat and listened as they spoke quickly, bantering ideas and plans back and forth. Háma spoke up when there was a momentary lull in the conversation, "When did Gandalf say he would return with the rest of the army?"

"Look to the east on the fifth day." Harry butchered what the elder wizard said, but really it gave the same information, "We traveled two more days after Gandalf left, we have today and… we'll have to survive a day without his aide."

Théoden looked almost insulted. "The keep will hold. No enemy has ever breeched her walls."

"I can set wards at the weakest points, but I'd need more wizards or witches to do that for the entire keep." Harry offered his aide, but received looks of confusion for his part. "Wards are like an invisible magical barrier, mostly set for security and privacy. There are others that can be done for homes, castles and keeps. I'm still pants at runes so my knowledge of wards is limited, but-"

"Wha's tha' got ta do with yer britches?"

Harry blinked at the dwarf, "It's an expression." He turned his attention back to Théoden after shaking his head clear of the thoughts of pants and continued, "I know enough wards to protect small areas."

The King of Rohan gave him a thoughtful look, "Ward the door to the caves after the elderly, women and children take their refuge."

"Yes, sir and I suggest the front gates as well, for added security. It's wood after all." Harry added that last bit when Théoden began to scoff at him. In the end the king relented and nodded his acquiescence.

Théoden barked out orders and his people scattered in order to carry them out. Harry was searching in his bag for anything that would be remotely helpful in keeping the people safe, but his mind kept coming up blank. Instead Harry chose to pull a Hermione and plucked out a book about wards. The young wizard frowned, wondering when exactly he had packed that, but soon found himself buried in the text instead.

Harry had been reading for a long while and hadn't noticed that he was alone in the hall until he raised his head to rub his weary eyes. His stomach growled and his bladder was full, Harry sighed and closed his book before leaving the tome on the table.

Peering around him, Harry noted - once again - that he was alone. With a small, mischievous glint in his eyes, Harry pulled out the tent from his school bag. He set the tent down near a dark corner and tapped it with his wand before stepping back and watching it set up instantly. With a huge grin, Harry set up a disillusionment charm and Muggle repelling wards. At the last moment, Harry opted for muffliato as well, just in case.

Harry stepped inside the roomy tent, dropped his bag on the table and went straight for the loo. Ah indoor plumbing, he had so much respect for the little things in life. Another idea sparked and while he still had access to the tent, Harry stripped his clothes off and stood under the running water.

Magic was so wonderful. And indoor plumbing, Harry reminded himself. Never would the young man take indoor plumbing for granted again… or hot water. No, hot water wasn't an issue really, he knew warming charms.

So, magic and indoor plumbing. Yes, those two things were the most important aspects to Harry's existence.

His stomach growled. Loudly.

Food… right then. Magic, indoor plumbing and food. That was all that Harry needed. He finished bathing, stepped from the shower and dried off quickly. Stepping back into the common room with a towel draped around his narrow hips, Harry made his way towards the bedroom he had claimed and pulled out clean clothes. He pulled up his shorts and reflected on his actions. He knew he was being silly, but perhaps he shouldn't dismiss the importance of clothing. He was okay at transfiguration and conjuring, but wasn't sure if he could make clothing that would fit and be stylish.

Food, magic, indoor plumbing and clothes. Harry laughed, okay now he was just being ridiculous.

As Harry finished dressing, he heard Éowyn call out for him. She sounded a bit far away, so Harry guessed she had just entered the hall.

Harry grabbed his bag and flung it over his shoulder. He stood outside the tent and watched the blonde stand in the middle of the room and stare at Harry's book on the long wooden table. She strolled over to the book and ran her fingers over the leather bound cover, feeling all the bumps and indentations of the letters.

Grinning, Harry stepped past the wards. "Were you looking for me?"

Éowyn let out a yelp of surprise and jumped back, recoiling as if the book burned her. "How…"

Harry held up a finger, "Wards… like the ones I spoke to your uncle about."

With that, the young man stepped back behind the wards and disappeared from Éowyn's sight. Her voice cracked when she asked, "Where… Harry where are you?"

Stepping forward once more, Harry responded. "I'm still here."

The Rohan maiden strode closer and suddenly stopped. Her brow furrowed and she turned to walk away. Harry chuckled, "Éowyn, wait."

Éowyn looked up at him as she was now far enough from the wards, "I…" She turned to look at the door she was walking towards and then back to Harry. "Where was I going?"

"One of the wards I used is a repelling charm. Makes you not want to come this way and do something entirely different. I know it works on humans, not so sure it will work on elves, dwarves or uruk-hai." Harry held his hand out to her, "Do you trust me?"

The blonde woman raised an eyebrow and he chuckled, "I promise not to hurt you, nor try and press my advantage. I am after all a gentleman."

Éowyn laughed and slipped her hand in his. "I have difficulty resisting a challenge."

"Oh you would make a wonderful Gryffindor." Harry walked her to the wards where she began tugging against him and shaking her head. "It's just the ward Éowyn, trust me."

Harry backed towards the tent and Éowyn fought the urge to run away screaming when her hand disappeared past the ward. Soon she was on the other side and her legs went weak. Harry awkwardly helped prop her up by holding her steady with his hands on her arms. "This is where I was when you came looking for me."

Blushing Éowyn stood tall, stepped away from the wizard and straightened her gown. "Why is there a tent in the hall?"

"This is a wizard's tent. It has been enchanted with magic so it is like a very small home inside." Harry pulled the flap open. "Would you like to see?"

Éowyn looked hesitant, but seemed to pull together her courage and gave a sharp nod before entering the tent. She gasped at the size of the interior and looked around with wide eyes. "What is _that_?"

"A stove, to cook on." Harry's stomach grumbled at him again, reminding the wizard he was hungry. He opened a charmed cabinet and removed a couple of apples. The young man sat at the table, chomping on the fruit and let her explore.

The funniest of Éowyn's discoveries was when she accidently flushed the toilet and let out a girlish scream of fright. Harry laughed so heartily, he practically fell off the chair he had been sitting on. When Éowyn calmed down and Harry finally caught his breath. He merely said two words, "Indoor plumbing."

Éowyn came to stand at the table. "How did you get this… wizard's tent in the hall?"

"It's magic." Harry handed her the second apple, nodded towards the exit and they both stood outside the tent. Harry vanished his apple core then tapped the door with his wand and it began folding in on itself. "So you were looking for me."

"What?" Éowyn asked distractedly and then her eyes widened, "Oh yes. Aragorn was walking around the perimeter of the wall and asked for you-"

"Harry?" Haleth had apparently been let out of the infirmary for he stood in the hall beside Gimli. "I don't see him. Are you sure he was here?"

"Aye, Lady Éowyn went looking for the lad. Ya said 'e wasn't in the sick house-"

"Infirmary," Éowyn corrected, but neither man heard her.

"They can't hear you. You're still behind the wards I put up." Harry pointed out that neither of the men were looking their way.

"Tha' there is one of the lad's books. I dinnae think he'd go running off withou' it tho." Gimli scratched his beard in thought.

"I can simply step through this ward again and be seen?" Éowyn asked, taking a tentative step forward.

"Exactly," Harry scooped up his tent and put it back in his school bag. "Or I can simply drop the wards like this. Finite Incantatem."

"Nothing happened," Éowyn canted her head in confusion.

"Gah!" Gimli let out a very un-dwarf like shriek, "Where didja come from?"

Harry - deciding not to mention Gimli's girlish squeal, seeing how the man had his axe raised in a battle stance - grinned and pointed out to the blonde maiden, "Obviously something happened or they couldn't have heard you or seen you. Just because you don't see magic, doesn't mean it isn't there."

"Are ya gonna answer m' question?"

"I was showing Éowyn what a ward is and how handy they can be." Harry grinned at the mute, stunned guard, "Hullo Haleth, you look well."

Haleth's jaw snapped closed and he grinned sheepishly, "I feel better as well."

"Excellent!" Harry looked expectantly at the three others in the room, "So who's going to show me where Aragorn is?"

* * *

Harry walked the length of the Deep Wall to get to where Aragorn stood. Once he saw what had the future king concerned, Harry nodded thoughtfully. "Well, first I'll repair the gate. Then make the area sturdier. Last I can cast a notice-me-not charm and the Imperturbable Charm."

"A notice me not charm?" Aragorn quirked an eyebrow, "What purpose would that serve?"

"Oh, you doubt my spells?" Harry simply grinned as he casted a few spells at the drain gate area before casting the notice me not on both sides of the gate. When the young wizard was through, Harry watched as Aragorn's eyes kept slipping past the area and chuckled. "Now tell me again where the gate is?"

"I…" Aragorn peered at the wall and still his eyes easily slid past the area he searched for. "I can't seem to see it."

"Exactly. There is a disillusionment charm, but I'm afraid that would make it nearly invisible and we'd rather not have the enemy believing there is a huge gap in the wall."

"Fascinating. What will you cast at the front gate?"

The two began walking in the gate's direction and Harry gave it some thought, "Hermione…" Aragorn frowned in confusion, "That is one of my best friends from school. She had taught me a few good charms to ward our tent when we were camping and on the run from the enemy. I think they'd work well at the gate. We won't need all of them since the uruk-hai have no wizards to cast hexes."

"No, they aren't advanced enough. They were created to be warriors and archers." Aragorn agreed and when they had finally reached the gate Harry hesitated.

"We aren't expecting anyone… are we?" Harry tapped his trusty holly wand against his leg.

"Not that I'm aware of. Why do you ask?"

"I thought I heard a horn."

Aragorn blinked when the sound registered in his own ears. "You did."

"But the uruk-hai aren't expected until tomorrow…" Harry knew that was a guess on his part, considering Hedwig hadn't - or rather couldn't - speak plainly.

The ranger grinned at the wizard, "Ah, but that is not the enemy that comes."

Someone from far above called out, "Open the gate!"

The two were suddenly swarmed with other guards, Legolas, Gimli and even Théoden came to welcome the newcomers. But when the gates opened, Harry stood stunned. Granted he had met an elf - and as otherworldly as Legolas was - the sight of a platoon of elves was as inspiring as they were daunting. Each elf stood as tall as Legolas and were just as ethereal and majestic, making the wizard feel rather small and insignificant in comparison.

There were three long rows of cloaked elves, armed with long bows in one hand and wore hoods that covered their heads which left their faces barely visible. One of the elven soldiers stood apart from the others. His long blonde hair wasn't covered. He wore gold armor and a deep red cloak. Harry supposed he was their leader. The tall elf soon stepped forward to address the King of Rohan. The man carried himself with grace and confidence when he placed a closed fist to his chest before bowing respectfully.

Théoden looked startled and unsure of how this army had arrived in their time of need. The only thing the man could mutter was, "H-how…"

The elf spoke clearly, his tenor voice sounded melodious, "I bring word from Galadriel, Lady of Lothlórien. An alliance once existed between Elves and men. Long ago we fought and died together. We come to honor that allegiance."

Harry saw that the commander looked past the king and smiled at Aragorn, Legolas and Gimli. Aragorn grinned widely and bowed just as the leader had to Théoden. Although when Aragorn spoke next it was in a language that Harry hadn't recognized, "Mae govannen, Haldir."

The young wizard had to look away to keep from outright laughing at the stunned look the elf had on his handsome features when Aragorn grabbed the man in a very Mrs. Weasley-esque bone crushing embrace. The ranger released the man just as aggressively as he had hugged him and the elven leader swayed with an amused look upon his face.

From all appearances this aristocratic man was a friend of the Fellowship, or at least Aragorn and Legolas. Gimli just gave the man a stiff polite look that could have possibly passed as a smile if one were to squint and use their imagination. Besides - according to Gimli - he wasn't the hugging type. Legolas, for his part, simply clasped the man's shoulder and received a similar response back.

Harry watched the exchange quietly, but his attempt at staying in the shadows did not last for long. The elf commander somehow found Harry's gaze in all of the excitement of the people from Rohan and gave the young wizard a nod of acknowledgement. Harry gave a nod in return.

Théoden looked delighted to have more fighters and welcomed them in, "We are pleased and grateful for your aide, master elf."

"I am Haldir, of Lórien." Haldir turned his attention once more to the king, "We are proud to fight alongside men, once more."

Haldir's gaze swept back to the young wizard and a smirk toyed with the man's features. "I have also a… gift for the Vanquisher."

With that announcement, Haldir stepped aside to expose a small form shrouded in a cloak similar to the soldiers, but much shorter. A delicate pale hand reached up and pushed the hood back, exposing large blue dancing eyes and long wavy blonde locks. The serene smile lit her face up as Harry cried out, "Luna!"

Ignoring all past awkwardness that Harry had ever felt about touching or hugging, the two friends clashed in a tight embrace. Luna's laughter enraptured many hearts, lifting them and giving a sense of hope. Haldir cleared his throat, "Lady Linovahle insisted upon accompanying us, much to her mother's displeasure."

"Your mum?" Harry eased his hold on his friend and frowned in thought, "I thought she died before you started at Hogwarts."

"My true mother is Lady Galadriel. I was sent to keep you safe until it was time for you to come to Middle Earth." Luna ignored the huff from Haldir. "She wasn't too pleased with me coming to Helms Deep, but it isn't as if we haven't survived one war together already."

"Wait, so you're an elf?" Harry blinked when Luna tucked her hair behind her pointed ear. "Wicked."

Théoden cleared his throat gaining Harry's attention. The young wizard blushed, grinned sheepishly, released his hold on Luna and quickly apologized, "Sorry, sir. This is Luna-"

"Lady Linovahle," Haldir corrected.

"- she's a friend of mine. We went to school together. She's also the one who gave me that parchment that brought me here." Harry blinked as something dawned on him, "That explains your dress! You were going to see your mum."

Luna huffed playfully and poked Harry's chest, "And where is your cloak?"

"Oh, yeah. It's in my bag." Harry pulled it out and allowed Luna to drape it around him and pin it closed as she had done that day in the Forbidden Forest. The young wizard blinked again when someone cleared their throat… again. "Right, erm… Luna-"

"Lady Linovahle," Haldir corrected… again.

"- this is King Théoden, that's Aragorn, Legolas, Gimli, Éowyn, Haleth, Háma and… everyone. I was about to set some wards on the gate when you lot showed."

Théoden gave Luna a small nod. She smiled brightly and gave a returning curtsey. The king beckoned them inside, "Please come in, we must close the gate."

Harry leaned against the nearest wall and waited… semi-patiently for the gate to clear. He was tapping his wand on his leg again and hummed to himself. At long last, or a few minutes later, Harry was unsure because he hadn't been paying attention, the gates were finally cleared. Aragorn turned to the wizard, "You can set your spells now, Istar."

"I need folks to step away from the gate please. Oh and you'll want to leave it open first so I can set wards outside. Then we'll close them and I'll set wards inside as well." Guards and the few civilians in the area moved away from the gate. Harry stepped through the opening and cleared his mind. He soon began the incantations and wand movements just as Hermione had taught him that year they had gone Horcrux hunting, "Protego Totalum, Repello Muggletum, Cave Inimicum," and soon added one that he had read in the book earlier before his shower, "Repello Inimicum.

Harry then turned to the gates themselves and stared at both wooden doors. First he casted nonverbally and was pleased with the results. Then he turned to the second half and said the incantation, "Reparo!"

The second half of the door was sturdier and looked nearly new compared to the repaired, aged and dingy first half. The wizard grinned at the latest comparison of his magic's ability before casting another repair charm on the first door. "Okay, close the gate."

The guards stepped forward and hesitated, causing Harry to snort, "Sorry about that." Harry stepped forward and pushed the gates closed. Which looked easier than it actually was. The gate doors may have been made of wood, but they were thick and heavy. The young wizard broke into a sweat before he managed his feat and swiped the moisture away before he continued casting spells. Harry started with the reparo and duro spells in order to strengthen the gate and the Imperturbable Charm he had learned from Mrs. Weasley, rounding off the spells with the same protective enchantments as he had in front of the gate.

Stowing his wand, Harry was pleased with the work, but he knew he still had to ward the door to the cave once the women and children were sent inside. Harry turned to walk back up to the hall when he came face to chest with the elven commander. "Erm…"

"Well met, young Istar." Haldir's blue eyes locked onto Harry's emerald gaze. "The First Born have long known of your coming, Vanquisher."

"I'm Harry." The young man stated, "Not all that fond of titles and such, yeah?"

"I am Haldir, Marchwarden of Lórien. Sometimes titles are necessary to distinguish your purpose in life." Haldir countered.

Harry couldn't argue with that logic and simply settled for a small shrug, "Point. Still titles like Istar or wizard, those are who I am, but Vanquisher… that one still makes me uneasy."

Haldir's gaze slipped towards the gate, "You were enchanting the gate." It wasn't a question. Harry simply waited for the man to continue. After a moment of silence, Haldir complied and spoke his mind, "That is both wise and foolish."

"What? Why?"

"When the gate falls, the blame will rest on your shoulders. Warranted or not." Harry sighed and Haldir nodded in agreement, "Lady Galadriel tasked me to seek you out upon arrival. Each member of the Fellowship that had passed through our woods was given a small token. My lady was disappointed, though not surprised, that Lady Linovahle and your arrival came after the Fellowship had passed our way."

Harry hitched his bag on his shoulder in a nervous gesture, "That was very kind of her."

"Not really," Haldir quirked a small grin at Harry's surprise, "It is also in the Eldar's interest that the Fellowship succeeds. It benefits us all to aid when we can." The elf pointed at the leaf that held Harry's cloak together. "That is the leaf of Lórien."

"Luna gave it to me just before we came to Middle Earth. So this was my present from her mum then?"

"Partially," Haldir agreed, "Each member received a cloak with a leaf along with a personalized gift."

Harry ran a finger across the leaf and had a lopsided grin on his face when he remarked, "I don't need anything else. She gave me her daughter after all."

The Marchwarden growled and Harry realized what he had said. He waved his hands in front of him, "I didn't mean it like _that_. I meant she sent Luna to keep me safe in school!"

Haldir glared at Harry, but apparently saw something within the younger man. Instead of continuing on in anger, the elf nodded and gestured towards the hall, "Come, the others will be waiting. We feast before the inevitable battle. The uruk-hai will arrive before dawn."


	7. That Dwarf is a Menace

**AN:** This Harry isn't quite as tall as Qvothe The Wise suggests. He's not overly short either. In my understanding (and I've been known to be wrong), the men and elves of Middle Earth were quite tall, averaging 6' and taller. Hence Harry feeling short.

The whole 'you're shorter than the dwarf' thing was just them having fun at the new guy's expense. Plus Éomer was bothered with his age more than Harry's height.

Ironically I cover this in chapter 9. We just haven't gotten there yet.

Fen Dweller - Wow... I hate to admit it, but you're mostly right. I didn't put _nearly_ as much thought into the Luna elf thing. I did think of the magic... just again not to the extent you have. Thank you for your input. I love seeing other views on thoughts and ideas.

* * *

**That Dwarf is a Menace.**

Preparations had been made to Théoden's satisfaction. Harry had set wards at the drain gate, the front gate and the door to the caves once the elderly, women and children were safely inside sans Luna, which annoyed the misogynist King of Rohan to no end. All riders of the Mark, guards and male volunteers - after being armed and outfitted - were positioned along the wall.

The nervous energy in the atmosphere was affecting the young wizard. Harry adjusted his school bag - as he was won't to do in place of fidgeting or combing his fingers through his hair - and watched with a heavy heart as the few teenagers - who had refused to hide with the others - drew together instinctively as if their mere numbers could protect them from the battle ahead. They had a look of determination and fear, resolve and unease of the unknown as they took their position on the wall. The young wizard understood how daunting war could be, the agony of anticipating the fighting and the horror of taking a life. Granted Harry's battle against Voldemort and his ilk was very different to what these teens would face, but these people had seen more death than he had at their age, and it didn't make facing the upcoming skirmish any easier.

Luna had smiled at Harry and graced him with a hug that the young man awkwardly returned. Her position during the battle was to be within the Hall and give aid to any wounded that could seek her out. Hedwig would stay in the hall with the elf and deliver messages if required.

Being the only wizard within the keep, Harry hadn't been given a specific place to be positioned. His help would be needed everywhere, but the two leaders were at odds as to where he was needed most. Harry solved the issue… slightly, by mentioning that he could easily apparate back to the Hall if he were needed in that area, but apparating in the midst of battle would be dangerous. The idea of popping in, only to be run through with a sword gave the young man a shudder of dread.

Naturally, Harry had to get familiar with the area and practiced apparating to the far corner of the Hall in order to not land on anyone and after two attempts Harry was satisfied - as was Théoden.

Harry was checking on the wards around the gate and sighed softly. The Muggle Repelling charm worked a bit too well even with the gate closed. The men were having trouble standing at their post near the entryway in order to protect it.

He paced the wall above the gate and found himself standing at a parapet overlooking the area. An idea had formed slowly and with a mental nod Harry summoned his broom. Kicking off, Harry flew over the wall. The wizard hopped off his broom and quickly dropped the wards. He could hear the distant sounds of a marching army that sounded much like a stampede and knew his time of safely standing on the bridge was coming to an end.

Harry did his best to ignore the cold chill of foreboding that crept down his spine and focused on the protective enchantments - sans the Muggle Repelling charm, "Protego Totalum, Cave Inimicum, Repello Inimicum."

Haleth called out to him from the wall above. "Harry, you must get to safety!"

"On my way," Harry kicked off on his broom and flew over the gate. Dropping to the ground, he leaned his broom against the wall nearby and mimicked the protective enchantments. Harry touched the gate with his hand, feeling the warmth of magic as it tingled under his fingertips and told Haleth, "It may not stop them, but it will definitely make them work harder to get through that gate."

Haleth gave Harry a small smile and a nod of thanks, "It is more than we could ask for."

"Stay safe, Haleth!" Harry grabbed his broom and kicked off to hover over the guard to wave farewell. The raven haired wizard flew along the wall of the keep towards the middle of the Deeping Wall where he knew the three companions of the Fellowship had gathered.

Harry landed safely on the Deeping Wall near Legolas and Gimli. The young wizard dropped his broom into his school bag before preparing for the upcoming battle. Looking to his right he could see Aragorn moving amongst the men, to his left was the tall, stoic elven army with bows in hand and an arrow at the ready to be drawn. Haldir gave Harry a small grin, "Good of you to join us, Istar."

"Not my kind of battle, but I'll do what I can." Harry glanced at the wall and frowned. He hated being short. The young man debated on his options. Perhaps he could moved to the other side of Legolas where the lower portion of the wall stood. Moving further left - in the other direction - would place him amidst the elves.

Gimli growled and Harry blinked at him. The dwarf barked in annoyance to his friend, while glaring at the wall as if it had personally offended him. "You could 'ave picked a better spot."

Legolas smirked silently as Aragorn arrived to stand amongst his friends. Harry leaned his back against the wall and stared up at the inky sky. There was no point in him staring at the stones. He was - after all - just half a foot or so taller than Gimli, who had been straining to see the field below.

Lightning flashed and rolling thunder sounded off in the distance. With a petulant groan the Istar complained, "Fighting isn't bad enough; we have to do this in the rain?" Harry glared at the darkened sky and slid down the wall to sit on the cold stone with a sigh.

The marching grew louder and louder over the sounds of the oncoming storm until there was a terrifying roar and suddenly all sound stopped. No noise came from below. Harry's heart raced. He closed his eyes tightly. No one upon the wall moved or spoke until Gimli's mail armor jingled, causing Harry to start in surprise. Gimli was practically jumping in place - rising up and down on his toes - in an attempt to see over the wall.

Aragorn called out in a foreign language. He sounded fierce and commanding, "A Eruchîn, ú-dano i faelas a hyn an uben tanatha le faelas!"

"Wha's goin' on out there?" Gimli elbowed Legolas who briefly glanced down at his friend.

When the elf deemed to respond, Legolas had done so very tongue in cheek. "Shall I describe it to you? Or would you like me to find you a box?"

Gimli stiffened and looked at his friend before the two began laughing to ease the tension the arrival of the enemy created. Harry - on the other hand - hopped up, crying out, "Brilliant!"

Those around Harry watched curiously as the wizard pulled out his holly wand and conjured a box. He then enlarged it and transfigured it to stone. Harry grinned brightly at Gimli stating, "Now we can see!"

Harry stepped on the newly conjured box, looked down at the field and almost immediately regretted being able to see what was happening below. The uruk-hai was everything that Legolas said they would be. Below in the fields was a sea of tall, broad, armed and blood thirsty warriors. Each stood with a large weapon in hand, skin as dark as pitch, some were bare chested and all displayed white hand prints randomly placed on their person or armor.

One of the enemies stood on a rock - higher than the rest - facing the masses. He raised his sword and cried out to the troops in yet another foreign language that sounded very guttural from where Harry stood. The uruk-hai growled in anticipation of the upcoming battle and started roaring and thumping their spears on the ground furiously.

The sky lit up with a flash of lightning and Harry's eyes grew wider when he saw how endless the army below had appeared to be. "Bloody hell."

Rain began to fall with large drops of cold water, soaking the battle field. Thunder clapped loudly drowning out the roars of the enemy. A single arrow flew over the wall and struck true. Harry's grip on his wand tightened as the uruk-hai army stopped their roaring and thumping.

As Aragorn called out 'Hold!' the uruk that was shot collapsed to the ground in a heap.

The other uruk-hai bared their teeth and roared with anger. With a cry, the leader thrust his weapon in the air and the uruk-hai army began charging.

Aragorn raised his own weapon and commanded down the line, "Prepare to fire!"

Every man and elf with a bow notched their arrow and aimed in anticipation. Harry pulled off his glasses with a sigh and cast the Impervius charm as Legolas spoke in his native tongue, "Faeg i-varv dîn na lanc a nu ranc."

Harry slipped his glasses back on and noted that each elf had adjusted their aim.

As the uruk-hai approached the wall, Aragorn cried out once more, "Release the arrows!"

Harry watched in morbid fascination as the arrows rained down on the enemy, killing many. Gimli poked Harry in the ribs, causing the wizard to hiss and rub his side. "Did they hit anything?"

"Swallow your pride, step on the box and you'd see." Harry snorted. Gimli growled at the young wizard, refusing to step on the box and gripped his axe tighter.

More commands could be heard in the distance and arrows sailed over the wall to rain down once again on the uruk-hai. Unfortunately the uruk-hai were undaunted and kept advancing as they marched over their fallen.

There came another flash of light followed by a thundering roar. Harry barely heard Aragorn's cry of, "Pendraid!"

Not knowing what was said Harry looked where Aragorn had pointed and saw impossibly long ladders being raised to the wall. They were draped with the enemy clutching to the moving wooden object, "Incendio!"

The middle of the nearest ladder burst into flames causing those that had burned to lose their grip. The uruk-hai - ignoring those that fell to their deaths and the fire - continued to climb until the ladder broke. Unfortunately the damage was done; the enemy who had made it to the top were on the wall wielding long, sharp weapons. Aragorn cried out once more, "Swords!"

Gimli grunted in satisfaction, "Good."

The Elves drew their blades in preparation for combat. Harry stood his ground and looked at the enemy below. He had no sword, but from this vantage point, he could at least do some good. "Bombarda!"

Down within the sea of the uruk-hai, the explosion hit and bodies flew, broken and bloodied. Harry threw cutting curses, fire and explosive spells at those below while the fighting continued on the wall near him.

Harry heard Aragorn calling out once more, but again it was in that foreign language so he ignored him and continued to throw his spells. The enemy was far away, his spells took a while to reach their destinations. It was frustrating, but the alternative was unacceptable. Harry would not go down to the field.

Movement caught Harry's attention and he watched in stunned silence as a single uruk carrying a flame - much like a torch carrying Olympian had on the telly - ran towards the wall.

Aragorn yelled, "Togo hon dad, Legolas!"

Legolas shifted his aim and shot the torch carrying uruk-hai, but the creature wasn't dead. He stumbled and kept running. As Aragorn continued to cry out, Legolas loosed more arrows. Harry gripped the wall and tried to curse the man, but the spell fell too far behind the runner.

The uruk was hit again and with several arrows already in his body, he threw himself at the wall. An enormous explosion went off, blowing away a large portion of the wall. Rock, debris and bodies were scattered. Aragorn was also thrown back by the force of the explosion and landed on the ground unconscious.

"Aragorn!" Harry had watched in horror. The young wizard jumped off the box and ran down the steps in order to get to his friend, "Rennervate!"

The groggy ranger opened his eyes and looked up at Harry. Aragorn growled at him, "I thought you fixed the weakness?"

"I did!" Harry huffed and pointed at what was left of the Deeping Wall.

Aragorn looked at what the young man was gesturing at and let out a short bark of a laugh. The deep rumbling amusement ended with a soft groan as the ranger clutched the back of his head. The dust had settled enough to see that - despite the explosion that created a gaping hole within the Deeping Wall - the drain gate stood defiantly forcing the influx of enemy warriors to maneuver around it.

"Théoden said the enemy couldn't get past the wall, so I took his word for it and strengthened the drain gate. It's still standing, so _that_," Harry motioned carelessly towards the hole, "is not my fault."

"Argh!" Both men looked up in time to see Gimli take a leap from the wall and began fighting the charging uruk-hai.

Harry gaped, "That dwarf is a menace."

"He's a brave warrior." Aragorn stood and pulled Harry to his feet, "Fall back to the keep."

Harry nodded and pulled out his broom. With a swift swoop over the wall - well out of reach of the arrows that still rained down - the wizard let loose a few more blasting spells at the seemingly endless sea of enemy.

One of the king's guards called up to Harry as he approached; waving a hand towards the direction the wizard had just come from, "Get those men out of there! Have them fall back to the Keep!"

"Right!" Pulling his Firebolt back around, Harry zoomed back to Aragorn and the elven army. Hovering over everyone - and with the aid of a sonorous spell - Harry called out the order, "Fall back to the keep!"

Aragorn looked up at Harry and gave a nod, crying out to the Elven army. "Na Barad! Na Barad! Haldir, na Barad!"

Harry heard Haldir's name and looked over at the wall. Many of the elves were still fighting, the others would never fight again. With a growl, Harry switched from his holly to the elder wand. The wizard took flight again and flew low between the wall and the ladders setting each of the wooden contraptions on fire.

He caught movement out of the corner of his eye and barrel rolled on his broom, barely missing a thrown spear. Harry was never happier with his quidditch skills.

Pulling upwards, Harry flew towards the bridge to the front gate where a slew of uruk-hai were making their way across. An explosive spell was on the tip of his tongue, but he curbed that urge - with effort - and opted for a less destructive spell to save the integrity of the bridge. The wizard pointed the elder wand and bellowed, "_Deprimo_!"

A strong gust of wind swept across the bridge, toppling the enemy, but not all had fallen to their deaths. Harry flew over the sea of enemy out on the plains and cast a series of explosive spells, leaving large craters filled with broken, bloody bodies. The elder wand was warm in his palm, singing with his magic as he casted cutting curses on his way back to the gaping hole in the Deeping Wall.

Harry could see Aragorn dragging an unwilling Gimli away from the battle. The dwarf was kicking and struggling as if angered at being forced to retreat. Harry scanned the area for Legolas, but wasn't sure where the elf was. The Deeping was overwhelmed with the enemy and Harry whipped the wand with a growl, forming a fire whip that lashed out and struck the oncoming uruk-hai. Their howls of pain fueled him and he unleashed another series of cutting curses.

Haldir called out to his remaining elves. Those who were still able to move leapt gracefully from the wall. Harry swung around once again in order to follow, but gasped when Haldir was struck with a sword. Refusing to fall, Haldir swung his blades, killing the uruk-hai that had wounded him.

The elf staggered and grimaced in pain. Harry landed beside Haldir and cried out at an incoming uruk-hai, "Sectumsempra!"

The uruk was cut in two as the Marchwarden slumped bodily against Harry, buckling the young man's knees. Wand in one hand and his broom in the other, Harry wrapped his arms around Haldir. With a grunt and a loud pop, Harry apparated the wounded elf back to the Hall.

Harry dropped his broom beside him and fell over trying to ease the gasping elf to the floor. Haldir looked around them with wide blue eyes, gripping Harry's cloak tightly with his right hand. "How did we get here?"

Ignoring the question the young wizard called out 'Luna!' before pausing and staring at the elder wand in his hand. Switching wands, Harry used his holly to send careful cutting curses at the straps to the elf's armor and plucked the chest piece off only to drop it to the side. The Istar scrambled to Haldir's injured side and began chanting, "Vulnera Sanentur, Vulnera Sanentur, Vulnera Sanentur."

Opening his school bag, Harry summoned, "Accio potions." The small case of potions flew up to him and he caught it with his seeker alacrity. Harry handed the case to Luna who had arrived by his side. She opened the flap and first grabbed a blood replenishing potion. Popping the seal from the vial she helped raise the elf's head and pressed the potion to Haldir's lips, "Drink."

Grimacing at the scent, Haldir did as told. Watching the wizard's movements with interest, Haldir drank the second potion that Luna pressed to his lips and was soon breathing easier. Luna set the empty vials to the side and closed the case, before that too was put on the floor.

"Mederi," Harry worked on other injuries on the Marchwarden. Harry did another diagnostic spell, "You'll be okay. You'll have to rest for a few hours, eat some meat for the iron and drink fluids, but you're going to be fine."

Harry grabbed his broom in order to go back out to the battle, but Haldir grabbed the wizard's forearm, "Wait. Why?"

Frowning, Harry met the Marchwarden's curious gaze. "Why? You would have died. Your men need you alive-"

Luna added familiar words spoken often by Hermione, "And Harry has a 'saving people' thing."

* * *

Created spell(s):

Mederi - Charms: healing spell, to mend wounds


	8. But The Gate is Holding

**But The Gate is Holding...**

Men were bracing the gate with wood and nails. Harry whipped out his holly wand and called out in a commanding voice, "_Reparo_!"

The doors to the gate immediately solidified and repaired. Théoden spun around and he breathed easier when his eyes landed upon Harry, "Wizard! Your spells are not holding."

"I told you it would only slow them and I repaired the gate, making the wood sturdier. I never said it would keep them out permanently." Harry countered. The words of Hildar suddenly came back to him, 'both wise and foolish'.

The king raised his voice and called out, "Legolas! Get them out of there!"

Harry looked out across the numerous soldiers, guards, elves and men for the Fellowship companions. He finally spotted Legolas standing above the gate, but not the other two. The elf looked over the wall and shouted, "Aragorn!"

Legolas threw a rope over the wall and those men on the wall helped the elf pull whatever was on the other end up over the wall. A loud cracking sound pulled Harry's attention back to the gate and once more he called out, "Reparo!"

The gate was once more whole and sturdy enough for Harry to look up at Legolas and possibly see what was on the other end of the rope. Harry was stunned when he realized it was Aragorn and Gimli being hauled up. With a surprised shake of his head, the wizard turned his attention back to the gate, "Duro!"

The wood of the gate was suddenly rock hard and Harry was pleased with himself.

"Pull everybody back! _Pull them back_!" Théoden growled.

Harry stared at the gate in confusion. "But the gate is holding..."

Théoden pointed in the direction of the gaping wall, "The castle is breached. They're coming from the Deeping. Your spells have bought us precious time, Vanquisher."

He had to resist sending any exploding spells at the uruk-hai army that were making their way over the walls from The Deeping. He was unsure how much damage he would cause the keep along with killing the enemy. Harry's eyes scanned the masses and saw the Fellowship leading others back to the hall as Théoden had directed. More accurately, Aragorn and Legolas were urging everyone to fall back, including the ever stubborn Gimli.

Aragorn once more grabbed ahold of Gimli and forcibly 'urged' the dwarf to retreat. Legolas paused in his own exodus to fire a few more arrows at the incoming enemy and when Harry had a clear shot, he too threw cutting curses, opting for the darker specialty of his ex-potions professor knowing only the counter-curse could heal such a wound.

Harry finally turned and entered the hall along with the survivors. Hitching his bag over his shoulder more comfortably so he could work, the wizard began looking after the wounded, starting with ensuring the king wasn't injured.

Théoden started in surprise when Harry's holly wand was pointed his way. The young wizard gave a lopsided grin and explained, "Just a diagnostic spell to see if you're well. Other than an accelerated heart rate - which under the circumstances is understandable - you're healthy."

Pausing for a moment, Harry looked at the guard standing beside the king. It was the same man that had ordered Harry to call the men back from the Deeping Wall. "Where is Háma?"

Harry didn't miss the wince and the wizard closed his eyes to take a slow breath, nodding. "I'm sorry. Are you injured?"

"Gamling," the guard grinned when Harry looked confused, "my name is Gamling and I'm not injured. Thank you for asking, Istar."

"My name is Harry." The wizard gave the guard a crooked grin and moved away quickly when a banging began at the door. "_Reparo_!"

The hall door solidified and repaired immediately. Harry began his protective enchantments before he went back to healing those he could. Most were grateful and were already on the mend. Some were wary to accept aid, but relented after seeing others healed.

"Harry!" The wizard looked across the room and made his way to Luna's side as she sat on the stone floor. Her large blue eyes held back tears of sadness. Harry's eyes widened in recognition of the man she held cradled on her lap, "His wound is deep. I've done all I can, but..."

"Haleth!" The man opened his eyes and gave Harry a weak grin, "Honestly, mate, you need to learn to dodge better or find a new job, yeah?"

The man in question tried to laugh, but coughed up blood. Luna wiped the blood gently with a soft cloth. Haleth gave her a weak smile in gratitude. When he spoke his voice was soft and tired, "I'll keep that in mind, young wizard."

Harry ran a diagnostic charm and frowned. "You! Give me a hand." With the aid of a teen, the two removed Haleth's chest armor and the wound was visible. Harry began chanting, "Vulnera Sanentur, Vulnera Sanentur, Vulnera Sanentur."

Haleth gasped shakily when he could pull more air into his lungs. Harry had summoned his potions and handed a blood replenisher to Luna followed by a healing potion. He stared at the few remaining vials and sighed softly. He had only one more until he could manage to find time to brew. Looking around, Harry found no easily accessible goblet and opted to conjure one before filling it with water.

Luna held the empty vials out to Harry who traded her for the goblet. Gently raising his head, Luna held the goblet to the man's lips and helped Haleth sip the water. The guard raised his hand and gripped the water to his lips and drank deeply as Harry casted a few more healing charms on him.

"You're not to move, Halteh. Your fight is over. Your ribs are tender and may break easily if you're hit." Harry sighed when he saw a stubborn set to the guard's look, "Don't make me immobilize you, because I will."

"Immobilize me?" Haleth blinked in surprise. "How, pray tell, would you do such a thing?"

"Magic, of course." Harry smirked and gave Luna a wink when he stepped away, but the scoff of sound and the groan accompanying it had his attention back to the stubborn guard, "Immobilis!"

Haleth stiffened immediately. The guard could only move his eyes which he did to see around him as Harry came back into his line of sight.

"Harry." Luna reprimanded her friend.

"You sound like Hermione," Harry gave her a small grin, but sighed when she tsked at him. "I warned him. He didn't listen."

"He will listen now." Luna tried to hide her humor, but her giggle escaped before she could stop herself. "Honestly, Harry. You never change."

Harry gave Luna a small smile before he peered at Haleth. The guard blinked and the wizard gave him a solemn nod with a flick of his wand, "Finite."

"Thank you, Lady Linovahle. I will stay put, Istar. I don't particularly care for the feeling of being immobilized." Haleth frowned in thought. "I felt... vulnerable."

Harry nodded in understanding, "I ask you not to join the fight, Haleth. I won't force you to stay behind, but I would appreciate it if you'd consider my request. As much as I enjoy your company, I'm sure healing you three times within three days is a bit excessive."

The young teenager had followed Harry and Luna quietly and helped them with the wounded that were scattered around the hall. It was late and Harry was exhausted. Luna managed to drag Harry to the table and he sat heavily with the others. The blonde motioned for the teen to join them. Harry gave the boy a lopsided grin, "I never got your name."

"I am Sondim," Sondim shyly glanced in the direction of the king and pulled into himself, "Son of Grimbold."

Harry looked at the others, confused at Sondim's reaction until Théoden explained, "Fear not, young Sondim. Grimbold is a fine man and brave commander. With the aid of these two fine healers, your father will be back on his feet come morning."

Realization dawned on the wizard and he gave the teen a reassuring - or what he had hoped would be reassuring - pat on the back. "I appreciate your help with the wounded, Sondim."

Throughout the late hours, the pounding on the door made it difficult to rest. Harry and Luna took turns checking on the wounded. The wizard repaired the door when necessary and checked on the protective enchantments each time.

Haldir approached the young wizard, "You should rest, Istar."

Harry gave a small tired nod, "I should, but I don't have the time. Once this war is over - or at least this particular battle - maybe I can get some sleep then."

"Even the immortal require time to meditate and refresh the mind."

"Especially you," Harry glanced at the Marchwarden and noted the man was not in full uniform. "I take it Luna hasn't mended your armor."

"On the contrary, Lady Linovahle has indeed mended the straps you cut to the best of her ability. My wound is bandaged adequately, yet there is no need to be in full armor, therefore I will allow my torso to mend further before aggravating it with full armor." Haldir handed Harry a small square of what looked like leavened bread. "At least eat. This is lembas. One bite will fill a man's stomach."

"Thank you," Harry took a small nibble of the lembas and sighed in relief when he felt the magic wash through him. "Elves are magical beings as well then? I mean, Luna is a witch and an elf and I have yet to get my head wrapped around that last bit. I've known her for six years as a human girl."

"We've been called magical, yes. Only Lady Linovahle is not a witch."

"Of course she is. How else did she go to Hogwarts?" Harry watched Luna who sat with the other elves noting for the first time that evening that she was working with herbs and bandages. She smiled patiently at one of the soldiers as she stitched carefully at his arm.

"Ah, in your world Luna Lovegood was a witch. Here, Lady Linovahle is an elf." Haldir stood watching along with the confused wizard. "It was the will of the Valar that she was temporarily gifted with magic in order to watch over you. Much like Lady Galadriel, there are limitations to their sight."

"So she speaks in broken, quirky sentences that sound like gibberish."

Haldir scowled, "My Lady Galadriel does not speak gibberish."

"I meant Luna." Harry sighed and ran his fingers through his hair, "I'm knackered and not making much sense. I suppose."

"Hmm," Haldir wasn't nearly appeased by the wizard's explanation, "Once this war has ended, Lady Galadriel would be honored with a visit."

"That is assuming I survive."

Haldir gave the young Istar a small knowing look, "From what I have been told, you will."

Harry stiffened in surprise, yet really he shouldn't have been, "She's Seen this."

It wasn't a question, but it caused the elf to pause before speaking. Quirking an eyebrow at the scowl that news received, Haldir was suddenly curious, "I take it you are not fond of those with Sight."

"My whole life was predestined by a prophecy. I fulfilled that one, was given three months of rest and suddenly I'm sent here - 'it's destiny', she says, and _poof_ I'm in Rohan - proclaimed the bloody Vanquisher." Harry growled in annoyance and rubbed his forehead. "I used to complain about my life being controlled, like I was a puppet on a string. And because of that bloody prophecy the entire wizarding world waited for me to kill the Dark Lord, because only I could.

"When the time came I killed the man, but then felt lost without a purpose. Honestly I hadn't expected to survive. He had over fifty years of experience to my six; the odds weren't in my favor. Suddenly he's dead and I'm free to just be… me. I had no idea who I was without an enemy to fight.

"Now I find myself in another world, with beings the likes I had never seen before: elves, dwarves, orcs, wargs and uruk-hai." Harry idly toyed with the leaf that wrapped the lembas in an attempt to control his growing ire. He didn't want his anger to unleash his magic, causing it to lash out at his surroundings like his fifth year in Dumbledore's office. "I have a new 'destiny' and while it isn't a prophecy, it certainly is a larger than life legend.

"Then I find out the only friend I have in this world has lied about who she is and brought me here without asking me if I was okay with leaving _everything _I know to come to this world." Harry grit his teeth and took a slow deep breath as he had felt his anger slipping out of his control, "I'm not so sure I care if I survive when it's all over. I'm… tired: of being used, of being manipulated."

"Perhaps that is why my Lady has requested to see you." Haldir rested his hand on Harry's shoulder. The wizard's head snapped towards the elf who dared to touch him.

"To grant me rest? Can she do that?" Harry cold glare met Haldir's steady gaze.

"Only the Lady of the Forest could say for certain." The Marchwarden gave the young man's shoulder a gentle squeeze, "Rest, Istar. Morning comes soon enough."

"Rest," Harry snorted and once again repaired the doors to the hall.

* * *

"Words I had never believed I would speak, but the keep has been breached. The Hornburg is overrun with uruk-hai." Théoden was eerily calm as he spoke, "So much death. What can men do against such reckless hate?"

Théoden watched the warded door to the hall as he reflected on the battle, "I have no qualms in taking the life of the uruk-hai for they are malevolent spawn created by an evil wizard with notions of grandeur above his station. I lament only for the men, _my men_, who were stalwart, virtuous and earnest.

"Though it matters not, for we - the people of Rohan - yet live." Guards stood straighter. The Fellowship and Elven warriors stood among them as Théoden turned to those within the hall with him. Harry stood quietly behind the gathered mass with Luna at his side. She slipped her hand in his, causing the boy to stiffen while the girl laid her weary head on his shoulder. "Hope is not lost and our people are not forsaken, for the riders come with the rising sun and we will outlive the tide of evil that would reach out and snatch that glimmer of hope from us. For we are the Rohirrim!"

Gimli's voice was almost lost within the shouts and cheers. "The sun is rising."

There was a mischievous glint in Aragorn's eyes when he turned to the king, "Ride out with me. Ride out and meet them."

Théoden gave the man a look of pure amusement, "Yes. We will ride out in glory to the sound of the horn of Helm Hammerhand!"

"_Yes_!" Gimli shouted enthusiastically and Harry could only grin tiredly as the room was swept away with thoughts of victory.

"Is there a pony for the dwarf?" Legolas' amused voice barely carried over the noise of the hall.

The response the elf received was a low growl from Gimli followed by a hearty laugh. Harry simply shook his head, wondering what sort of odd friendship the two had; Legolas seemed to enjoy mocking Gimli's height whenever possible. Perhaps the wizard had missed the times when Gimli teased back for he hadn't witnessed that just yet.

"No, Haleth," Harry spoke before the guard could ask.

"But you heard the king!" Haleth tried reasoning.

"I did, but the answer is still no. As your healer, I cannot in good conscience allow you to join the ride," Harry grinned widely when the man's shoulders drooped with defeat.

Harry watched as the others prepared for another assault. His biggest question at the moment was where the horses came from, but no one seemed inclined to answer that question for him.

Two guards stood before the large double door awaiting the signal. Once the horn of Helm Hammerhand sounded that the doors were pulled open and Harry sent out a spell. "_Deprimo_!"

A large gust of wind swept the uruk-hai back, giving the warriors a chance to exit easily. Two rows of riders bolted towards the door behind the spell. Harry held still as the horses passed him on both sides. Théoden called a rallying cry, "_Forth Eorlingas_!"

Théoden lead the charge out of the keep into the Hornburg, slashing away at the uruk-hai as they went. Without pause, they stormed out of the gate and down the Causeway, right into the column of waiting uruk-hai.

Harry made his way to the top of the gate with Luna on his heels. The pair stood upon the wall. The battle raged on and Luna frowned at the carnage that lay before them. Out in the field - where the mass of uruk-hai had swarmed from - were large craters filled with broken bodies in and around them. Along the wall were more dead, both allies and enemy. Luna stepped closer to Harry who wrapped his arm around her shoulder in understanding.

Haleth cried out, "The sun! The others should be arriving."

Looking towards the east towards where his friend had pointed, Harry saw a white rider against the rising sun followed by the Third Marshall. "It's Gandalf with Éomer and his riders. They've arrived."

Éomer raised his spear over his head with a rallying war cry of his own that Harry couldn't make out over the fighting. The Riders of the Mark rode alongside the white wizard, slashing at the enemy as they advanced towards their king.

"Now that is a beautiful sight." Haleth said reverently.

Harry grinned and nodded in agreement. Luna gripped the edge of the wall as she leaned forward and watched with rapture as the valiant men of Rohan beat back the tide.

Hedwig came swooping down and landed upon Harry's shoulder. The four watched as the battle raged. Some of the uruk-hai army attempted to flee, others fought to the death. Harry canted his head and asked, "Were there always trees there?"

Cries of anguish could be heard from within the trees and the two men exchanged a look of confusion, "It was plains... how'd the trees get here?"

Luna smiled, "It's magic."

Haleth scratched the back of his head and gave a small shrug, "Sounds reasonable to me."

* * *

**AN 2: **Happy Wednesday! Okay so you may (or may not) have noticed that I 'try' to keep at a schedule. I post on Wednesday and Saturday (or Sunday, if Elipsa is super busy). So if you don't see something from me on one of two days, more than likely you'll see it the day after.

Potterfanforever - My Harry isn't short. (I love how hung up some folks are on this because I make silly comments.) Legolas, Harry & Gimli were standing at the Deeping wall. Now picture that wall in your head. It has tall areas and shorter areas; like square teeth on a Jack-o-Lantern. Harry & Gimli were unfortunate enough to be standing behind a tall area. Which is silly of course and had he switched places with Legolas, I'm certain they would have seen just fine without the conjured box. Well Harry would, not so sure about Gimli. That whole scene from the movie between the elf and dwarf was just too funny not to keep in my story and well, Harry poked my muse so poof he has a conjured box. One more chapter and you will see the last of the height comments. Well, until later and it isn't about him being short. I mean honestly, a guy has felt short most of his life (being friends with the towering Ron Weasley makes a guy feel not so tall) and then he meets hobbits. Who can have a short complex after that?

Fen Dweller - I like how your mind works. Hopefully you see that Harry does have some issues with Luna, but again, that whole thing about his mother dying / her mother claimed dead never entered my mind. Never stop voicing your opinion. If I do something wrong, it's better that I learn from it than to keep perpetuating the cycle.

Thank you to everyone who has taken the time to read, favorite, follow and/or review. All y'all just make my day shiny.


	9. A Hip-a-wha?

**A Hip-a-wha'?**

It was a day's journey to Isengard and the Fellowship was on horseback again. They didn't travel alone on their journey. They were accompanied by Harry, Théoden, Éomer, Gamling, Haldir and Luna along with what was left of their elven army.

The young wizard was rather chuffed: Harry had remembered to put a cushioning charm on the saddle before they had headed out to find the hobbits at Isengard.

Harry was curious about these small half-man 'beings' that were described to him by the dwarf - as 'pint-sized men with big feet'. For a dwarf to call someone short, Harry figured the hobbits must be rather diminutive, much like the Charms Master Professor Filius Flitwick.

Regardless of what Éomer had insinuated Harry was a modest 172 centimeters. Granted he wasn't nearly as tall as the mammoth sized men of Middle Earth, but he was a sight taller than Gimli who - according to the dwarf - was on the taller side of his sort, standing at about 152 centimeters. Harry had tried not to be self-conscious about his height - or lack there of - but living seven years with his best mate towering over him the entire time hadn't made it easy.

"He won't stay," Luna remarked.

They had been traveling in a lulled silence and Harry grinned when Gimli looked over at the girl as if she had just stated the sky was purple and dwarves love the forest. "Wha' is she on abou'?"

Legolas simply shrugged. Haldir gave a noncommittal hum and Harry explained, "It won't make a lick of sense now, but suddenly… it will."

"I dinnae un'erstand." Gimli peered at the elven girl. "Who is 'e tha' winnae stay where?"

"If I had to wager a guess," Harry pieced together what Luna had said as the elf smiled at the dwarf, "It has something to do with where we're going. When it comes to Luna-"

"Lady Linovahle," Haldir still tried to correct Harry; yet the wizard ignored the Marchwarden and continued speaking.

"- it is smarter to simply remember what she said for later reference. Her pearls of wisdom don't always come into play until hours, days or sometimes even months later. Back in third year she told me to trust a hippogriff in September-"

"A hip-a-wha'?"

"Hippogriff - it's a half eagle, half horse magical creature that lives in our world." Harry shot a glance at Luna when she giggled, causing the young man to frown, "Well, in my world seeing how Luna is an elf from this world. They're really powerful, beautiful and proud beasts. Anyhow, six months later Buckbeak saved me and my best friend from a werewolf and then helped us save my godfather from being kissed by a dementor."

Gimli gave Harry an odd look at the mention of being 'saved' from a kiss, but instead of pursuing the conversation about the kissing dementor the dwarf asked, "This Buckbeak would be tha hippa-beast?"

"Hippogriff, yeah." Harry thought wistfully, reflecting back on his years at Hogwarts which brought him full circle to his presence in Middle Earth, courtesy of an elf.

Luna had brought him to this world without even a warning... well, not a real warning. Spouting something about destiny was not what Harry could classify as a real warning. That type of behaviour was something that Harry had never expected from the girl... elf.

The two friends - ex-friends? acquaintances? persons with a shared history for a number of years? - had a relatively long conversation during their journey to Isengard. Lady Linavuhle, Lanavile... Harry's brow furrowed; the elf would always be Luna to him. She had apologized for her part in the deception, claiming that it was the will of the Valar. Luna had been limited in what she had been allowed to tell him: hence her warnings always sounded so odd, like when she went on about Crumple-Horned Snorkacks or Nargles. Her mission had been to bring him to Middle Earth and she purposely put it off so he could defeat Voldemort first, helping Harry as best she could. Luna refused to allow another world to suffer as hers was. Harry wasn't sure he was okay with her explanation or her hiding behind the Valar as an excuse, but she had been taken from her parents and her people, put into a world with restrictions on what she was allowed to tell him and was granted magic only for her to be stripped of that power once she was home again. Life without magic gave Harry a small shudder of dread. That was a horrifying thought.

Harry sighed softly. He was rather torn over how he felt about his... friend. Maybe once the war was over he'd have time to sort through his feelings. He needed to focus on the conflict, not brood over how or why he was in Middle Earth. Anger and resentment took too much energy and focus, not to mention the stress it would add to his already hectic life. Harry had a war to fight and a dark lord to vanquish. Right, survival first; dealing with Luna second.

Besides, she had given him some sage advice through the years that had come in handy once he had deciphered the meaning. Harry gave Luna a small smile, "I'm not sure if I ever thanked you. Your words of encouragement over the years were appreciated, even when I didn't understand them right away. Thank you, Luna."

Luna returned the smile, but her eyes held a hint of sadness, "It was my pleasure, Harry. You've been a great friend."

"There it is," Legolas pointed to a distant black tower that reached through the haze for the blue sky above it, "the Tower of Orthanc."

"I thought we're going to Isengard."

"We are." Legolas gave Harry a quirky grin, "The tower of Orthanc resides in the center of Isengard."

"Oh, right, like Hogwarts is in Scotland." Harry nodded, pleased with his analogy, but confused most of those around him. Luna simply giggled softly. Scoffing with a petulant pout, Harry muttered, "At least Luna understands me."

"Tha' may nah be good thing, lad." Gimli looked from one youngling to the other.

Luna's giggle died instantly, but not due to the dwarf's comment. A curved wall shadowed their path on their left while on their right a ruined forest laid witness to the atrocities that Saruman had committed.

All the elves stared sadly at the torn and butchered remnants of what must have been a magnificent forest. The ground was littered with tree remnants: limbs, roots and leaves. The forest wasn't merely cut down to lie in waste; the trees were brutally torn and ripped from the soil.

"Welcome, my Lords, to Isengard." The small voice caught Harry's attention and the wizard looked to his left. Up on the wall were two small males: one sat and ate, the other made an effort to bow gracefully with a still smoking pipe in his hand. Both males were grinning widely as if pleased to see the travelers.

"You young rascals!" Gimli huffed rolling the R in rascals for emphasis, "A merry hunt you've led us on, and now we find you feasting and smoking."

Harry peered up at the two on the wall, noting the large hairy barefeet on the pair and came to the conclusion that these must be the hobbits the Fellowship had been searching for. The one still seated and gorging on food spoke with his mouth full, much as Harry's best friend Ron Weasley had done many times in the past. The brown haired male swept a hand, still holding a tankard, to show not only the flooded town behind the wall, but the picnic of food and drink that surrounded him on the wall. "We are sitting on a field of victory, enjoying a few well-earned comforts. The salted pork is particularly good."

The dwarf's interest was suddenly peaked at that bit of information, "Salted pork?"

"Hobbits…" Gandalf muttered under his breath before clearing his throat and making proper introductions, "King Théoden, I present to you Peregrin Took and Meriadoc Brandybuck, two companions of the Fellowship."

Théoden grinned at the two hobbits that stood immediately upon introductions and attempted to bow respectfully; neither had set aside their food or pipe. "I am honored to make the acquaintances of such brave souls that fought alongside the great tree herders."

"Oh!" The blonde hobbit with the pipe looked as if he had suddenly remembered something and spoke to Gandalf, "We're under orders from Treebeard, who's taken over management of Isengard. He tasked us with bringing you to him at the Tower of Orthanc upon your arrival." He then grinned broadly at the king, "If it pleases… I'm Merry and he's Pippin."

Pippin gave a mock salute - with the salted pork still in hand - and a huge grin. "That'd be me."

"Harry," Luna's voice sounded softly beside the young wizard. "It's time."

The young man stiffened immediately. "The last time you said that, you dragged me off to the Forbidden Forest and I woke up alone in the fields of Rohan."

Luna smiled softly, "It is time for us to part ways once again, my friend. I must go back to Caras Galadhon. Mother is expecting our return."

Harry tried not to fidget as all eyes were on them. Some were polite enough to pretend not to be listening, others openly stared. Temporarily setting aside his animosity, the young wizard leaned over and drew his friend into an awkward hug, finding he rather missed Hermione's spontaneous hugs. "Will I see you again?"

"We will meet again when the dead blooms." Luna cupped Harry's cheek and smiled at him. "Mother is looking forward to meeting you."

"I, erm… suppose I will meet her when the dead is… blooming." Harry stammered.

Luna graced him with one of her serene smiles before kissing his forehead. "You will."

King Théoden cleared his throat, "Lady Linovahle, please extend my thanks to Lady Galadriel."

Haldir shook Harry's hand and the other Fellowship members as well. The goodbyes were kept as short as their earlier introductions had been and with a heavy heart Harry watched his only friend within Middle Earth ride away.

A lonely screech came from above as Hedwig swooped gracefully around the parting elves. She briefly landed on Luna's shoulder to say her good-bye before making her way back to Harry. The snowy owl landed on the teen's shoulder and gently nipped his ear, reminding her human he wasn't truly alone.

The traveling party moved on once again with Merry and Pippin back with the Fellowship; Merry rode with Aragorn and Pippin rode with Gandalf. Harry watched the hobbits with curiosity. They resembled small children: big grins, innocent gazes, but from his perch on horseback, any further comparison would have to wait until all parties were on equal footing.

They had entered a flooded Isengard, the group moving towards the center of the village to the tower where the leader of the tree herders awaited their arrival.

Harry was curious about what a tree herder did or would look like and, really, why was a tree herder necessary? Did the trees of Middle Earth run free around a field like sheep? His mind drifted towards biblical shepherds carrying staffs, wearing robes and sandals while keeping goats and sheep from drifting off into danger like those on the telly when Aunt Petunia watched Christmas specials. What the young man wasn't expecting was to be faced with a large walking, talking tree… or rather an Ent as he was corrected immediately when he muttered his thoughts aloud.

The young wizard kept any rubbutle to himself as he listened to the Ent named Treebeard speak to Gandalf in a slow melodic cadence. "Huraroom… Young Master Gandalf, I'm glad you've come. Wood and water, stock and stone I can master, but there's a wizard to be managed here…" The Ent swayed gently when he spoke and Harry found it mesmerizing and surprisingly soothing. "Locked in his tower he is."

"And there Saruman must remain, under your guard, Treebeard."

As the two eldest of the group continued to speak, Gimli grumbled under his breath, "Let's just have his head and be done with it."

Harry frowned at the dwarf, "Is violence all you know? That was a nasty mental image."

Unbeknownst to Harry, Gandalf overheard the exchange and spoke softly, "He is no threat. He has no power any more."

The Ent nodded at Gandalf's wisdom, but Harry canted his head as he looked up at the tower that loomed over them, "I wasn't disagreeing with Gimli's idea of eliminating Saruman, just his method, but you know this wizard better than I do. I'm just not as convinced about his lack of power. He may not have his army any longer, but the hate in his heart still exists. Power comes in many forms and he still craves it. I've seen dark wizards return to power stronger than they previously were."

"The filth of Saruman is washing away... Trees will come back to live here, young trees... wild trees." Treebeard was lost in his own cadence of words when movement caught most of the groups' attention.

Standing above them on a balcony was Saruman with Grima cowering behind him. Harry smirked at the sight of the worm and muttered under this breath, "There's a shocker. The worm ran to his master."

What had been said tongue in cheek gained Théoden's ire as he glared at the teen. Harry blinked innocently, but wisely kept his tongue.

The white wizard stood proudly over them and called down to the King, playing on his sympathies, but Harry grew bored with the verbal banter until a large black marble looking projectile headed their way. The young wizard immediately created a shield around them and the round dark stone plunked into the water at the horses' feet.

The brunette hobbit slipped down from the horse he rode on with Gandalf and scooped up the shiny sphere. The large marble looked quite smooth and the image within swirled with color, much like a dark crystal ball. Pippin was mesmerized by the beauty as Harry watched the orb in fascination, but their attention was broken by Treebeard's exclamation of surprise, "Well bless my bark!"

All eyes turned to the hobbit when Gandalf stiffened. The old wizard kept his voice as even as possible, yet one could hear the strain and concerned undertones, "Peregrin Took! I'll take that, my lad!"

Only Pippin didn't move to give the man what he requested; his eyes stared in wonder at the black stone as if he couldn't tear his gaze from it. Gandalf raised his voice and barked at the hobbit, "Quickly, now!"

With many gestures from the aged man, the small hobbit finally acquiesced to the demands and thrusted the ball towards Gandalf. The wizard wrapped it in his cloak and watched the hobbit for any ill effects. Harry frowned at the odd exchange, storing the information for later.

* * *

**AN:** Just for a frame of reference:

Elves & Men - 183-193 cm = 6'-6'4"  
Harry - 172 cm = 5'8"  
Gimli - 152 cm = 5'  
Merry & Pippin - 134 cm = 4'5"  
Hobbits - 122 cm = 4'

Just a note, in case I forgot to mention this before or someone missed reading it. I am horrible about sticking strictly to the movies vs the books. Majority of this is from the movies, but there are certain aspects of the books that I prefer. Hence Saruman didn't die here and Théoden joined in on the journey to Isengard.


	10. Old Before I Hit Puberty

**Old Before I Hit Puberty**

Upon their return, the whole of Edoras had prepared for a feast and celebration. That very night the Golden Hall was filled with common folk, warriors, royalty, a couple of wizards, laughter, music, food and drink. The people of Rohan ate, drank, sang and danced.

The Golden Hall had three long tables running parallel to each other with a row of three kegs of ale lined up at the west side. Maids of Rohan brought food in and laid the platters upon the tables. Harry sat at the table nearest the kegs where he could view the entire room.

The king stood and the room grew quiet as all eyes were immediately drawn to him. Théoden raised a tankard and toasted, "Tonight we remember those who gave their blood to defend this country. Hail the victorious dead!"

The room erupted with cheers and each person of Rohan attending raised their drink to toast with the fair king. Harry politely sipped at his ale in memory of those who had fallen: man and elf. Gimli had already drank down two tankards and toasted with his third.

The dwarf slammed his empty tankard upon the wooden, food-laden table and laughed uproariously at his off color joke that only he seemed to understand. Legolas stood nearby and smiled cordially at those who dared speak with the mysterious elf. Aragorn celebrated with the men of Rohan while the two hobbits drank, laughed and sang.

Sondim stood beside a barrel of ale and poured tankard after tankard for the guests. He handed the drink off to the Third Marshal of the Riddermark. Éomer accepted the drink from Sondim and ruffled the boy's hair as another shout of laughter rippled through the room.

The young wizard was surprised when Éomer sat beside him and was momentarily distracted from Gimli as he explained to the elf the drinking contest rules. Legolas stood at one end of the table while Gimli sat at the other and the two began drinking tankard after tankard of ale. Sondim was barely keeping up with the pair in the beginning, but soon he was able to slow down as the drinkers were too inebriated to drink as swiftly as they had been and enjoy the odd banter between the elf and dwarf.

After their tenth ale, Legolas blinked and stared at his hand as if he had never seen it before while wiggling his fingers. "I feel a tingling in my fingertips."

Éomer laughed and raised his tankard in appreciation of the elf's drinking skills. Harry watched with concern, thinking only of the possibility of alcohol poisoning. Gimli responded with a rather loud, repulsive belch and laughed at his own form of wit. While Ron had bad table manners, even he wasn't quite as nauseating. The wizard wrinkled his nose in distaste, "Are all dwarves like this one?"

"From what stories have been told, I believe they are." Éomer drank heavily from his own tankard and watched as Gimli drank down a tankard in one go, possibly wearing more than he had consumed.

"Fascinating." Gimli belched again. Harry shook his head, "Disgusting, but fascinating."

Gimli began pounding his empty tankard on the table in time with the music as the two hobbits began singing. Harry looked up toward the middle of the room where Merry and Pippin danced on a table. The bar song was rather catchy and Harry grinned at their antics.

"_Oh, you can search - up and down  
__As many lands as can be found  
__But you'll never find a beer so brown  
__As the one we drink in our home town  
__You can keep your fancy ales  
__You can drink them by the flagon  
__But the only brew, for the brave and true,  
__Comes from the Green Dragon_!"

They sang and drank, carrying on a form of floor show to entertain the people of Rohan. Harry noted Gandalf clapping along with the music, standing alone at the outskirts of the crowd. He envied his position of solitude and excused himself from the table just as the dwarf belched and passed out.

Harry made his way to the wizard's side and breathed easier. Where Gandalf stood, the room wasn't nearly as loud as the crowd remained rather centralized. The older man grinned at the young wizard, "Too much celebrating?"

"I've never been comfortable in crowds. Too tempting of a target for the bad guys. I don't like to test fate." Harry admitted. "When folks are too happy, too relaxed, that's when tragedy strikes fast and hard."

Gandalf sobered at Harry's words, "You've lived a hard life if you have such a jaded view at such a young age."

"I did mention that my parents were murdered in front of me when I was a toddler. I grew up with an Aunt and Uncle that hated magic. Uncle Vernon thought to beat it out of me, to force me to be 'normal' - or what he thought passed as normal. I didn't know magic was real or that I was a wizard until I was eleven when I was accepted to a special school just for wizards and witches.

"I went to Hogwarts once I learned about my heritage. Every year there was a test of my loyalties and abilities until the war broke out when I was fifteen.

"Growing up in a war where death and torture is a daily occurrence tends to force a person to grow up very quickly especially when it was foretold that it is up to you to end it and _only_ you can because the prophecy said so." Harry watched the drinking and dancing hobbits. "I was never a normal child. Old before I hit puberty."

Aragorn joined the wizards for a respite from the celebrating. After the second glance towards Gandalf, Harry asked, "Would you like some privacy? I can easily step away."

The Ranger gave the young man a crooked grin, "That won't be necessary. I was just thinking about Frodo."

"The hobbit with the horcrux?" Harry asked, lowering his voice on the last word.

"Horcrux?" Aragorn blinked showing his confusion.

Harry saw a passing woman look over at them when Aragorn spoke and threw a quick privacy ward around the three, "A horcrux is an item that magically holds a piece of a man's soul within it, making that person immortal so long as his separated soul piece is safe. This ring that your friend, Frodo, carries acts much in the same way. Your Dark Lord lives so long as that ring is whole.

"What is really troublesome about a horcrux is that they are next to impossible to destroy and the negative effect it has on the person carrying the item can be either life threatening or mind altering." Harry had a far off look in remembrance of his own encounters.

"Ah," Aragorn gave a small shudder of distaste at the idea of horcruxes, "So Frodo is in even more danger than I had first believed so long as he has the ring in his possession."

"A young witch had one at the age of eleven. This particular horcrux was a diary that interacted with her." Harry closed his eyes as he related Ginevra Weasley's tale, "She was a lonely little first year and would write in its pages. She said the diary was her only friend. The whole time the horcrux was feeding off of her life force and becoming whole once more while she slowly died."

"Did she perish?"

Harry's eyes sprung open and his head snapped towards Gandalf, having forgotten the older man was still at his side. "No. I destroyed the horcrux with the poison of a basilisk. The moment the diary was destroyed it released its hold on Ginny and she lived. Unfortunately I have no poison to destroy the ring."

"How many have you destroyed, young Istar?" Aragorn asked quietly.

"The diary was the first," The wizard wrapped his arms around his torso, "The next was a ring, then a locket, a cup, a diadem, a snake and the last… was me."

"_You_ are a horcrux?"

"Was… I was a horcrux."

"How does one stop being a horcrux?" Aragorn blinked, "How does one _become_ a horcrux?!"

Harry raised his bangs and exposed his infamous - at least in the Wizarding World - scar, allowing Aragorn to see it before dropping his hand back to his side, "My mother had done some sort of ritual with runes. The night the man came to kill me, it's protection was activated the moment she sacrificed her life for me. He used the killing curse on me. It bounced back thanks to my mother. His soul - already torn from the two murders he committed prior to activating the ritual - was shattered. A fragment latched on to me, the other was released into the world and his body destroyed.

"In order to release the fragment within me, I - like any horcrux - had to be destroyed." Harry looked at the two men, "I died."

"But you're…" Aragorn's words trailed off and Harry gave him a half grin.

"I didn't stay dead." Harry turned his attention to the festivities, "I'm not saying I can't die. I'm simply saying I'm hard to kill."

Gandalf peered at the teen, "Did you destroy them all?"

"I had loads of help." Harry recounted, "I hunted for the horcruxes, but I only destroyed the first one. Dumbledore - the headmaster and leader of the Light - took care of the ring, Ron - my best mate - had the locket, Hermione - my best friend - the cup, Crabbe - one of Voldemort's lackey's - unintentionally burned the diadem along with himself when he was trying to capture me, Neville - a friend of mine - killed the snake - from what I hear that was a sight to see, a snake's head flying off with a whack of an enchanted sword - and Voldemort killed me."

"Isn't he the one you vanquished?"

"The same." The teen changed the subject away from his past back to the question Aragorn had intended for Gandalf, "Is there news of Frodo?"

"No word," Gandalf hesitated and sounded almost lost, "Nothing."

"We still have time." When Gandalf canted his head in question, Aragorn continued, "Every day Frodo moves closer to Mordor."

"Do we know that?"

The elderly man sounded skeptical, but Aragorn prompted, "What does your heart tell you?"

Gandalf gave a small, tired smile and sounded almost wistful, "That Frodo is alive."

Harry quietly listened to the two old friends speak and took a calming breath before looking over the feast as the celebration was slowing. The two hobbits were no longer dancing on the table, instead opting to regale listeners with their tales of adventure. Gimli was passed out on a table. Legolas stood in the same spot he had been standing at when Harry had walked away from the competition, only instead of drinking he was conversing with Éomer and Haleth.

"Where do we go from here?" Harry asked, "What is our next step? I can't imagine we're going to stay here in Rohan - safe in the Golden Hall, drinking until we pass out, eating until we can't walk - until Frodo makes it to Mordor."

"We need Théoden to join the war. He currently believes there is no urgency since the Battle of Helms Deep was a success." Aragorn crossed his arms before him and scowled. "War will spread and it will come to the borders of men."

"We have to talk the stubborn king into doing something he is dead set against?" When Aragorn snorted softly at Harry's choice of words, the young wizard shook his head, "Count me out. He still barely forgives me."

"You did apologize, did you not?" Aragorn practically growled.

"Yes!" Harry huffed, "Even if I didn't want to."

"Harry…"

"I was sincere in my apology. I spoke nothing but the truth. I shouldn't have said some of the things I had even if it was all heartfelt and true."

"Harry."

"Weeeeeeell, I think it's time for me to get some sleep." Aragorn's hand was suddenly rather heavy on the young man's shoulder and the teen wasn't going any further. Harry gave the ranger a crooked grin, "Good night, most benevolent king."

"Impudent whelp."

Chuckling, Harry made his way to the large room just beyond the Golden Hall that had been set up for the fellowship to bunk in. Stretching his sore back, the teen soon dropped his bag at the foot of the bed, removed his cloak and set it aside as well.

Harry sat on the cot and removed his boots, tucking them out of the way and laid his head wearily upon the flat pillow. The sheer luxury of a bad - regardless of how lumpy - was a welcome change. The teen pulled the thin blanket over him and tucked his wand under the pillow before allowing his eyes to shut.

He wasn't sure how long he had been asleep, but scuffling and Merry crying out for his friend woke him. "Pippin!"

Grabbing his wand, Harry sat up while straightening his glasses and wasn't sure what he was witnessing. Pippin was convulsing while holding the Palantir. The orb was active with swirling charged electrical lights that crackled audibly and emitted magic into the very air in the room. Harry sat stunned by the weight of the immense dark power pressing down on him.

The blonde hobbit grabbed Harry's arm and shook him, crying out, "Harry, help Pip!"

Pippin sank to his knees, his mouth open in a soundless scream. He fell backwards, back arched, powerless to release the fiery globe. Harry scampered out of his bed and pointed his wand at the pained hobbit, "Expelliarmus!"

The palantir was wrenched from Pippin's grip as he slid to the far side of the room. The globe soared through the air just as Aragorn entered, followed shortly by Legolas while Gandalf woke with a start. The room of people watched the orb mid-flight and a series of events happened simultaneously: Gandalf attempted to hop out of his bed, getting entangled with the thin blanket which caused the elder wizard to faceplant on the wooden floor; Legolas dove to catch the falling wizard, becoming a cushion for the Maia's torso; Merry ran to his best friend who whimpered when his head met the far wall; Gimli - who was sleeping through the whole ordeal - snorted gruffly, rolling over; Harry - courtesy of his seeker reflexes - instinctively reached up as the Ranger caught the palantir just over the small wizard's head.

Harry hissed as his forehead burst in white blinding pain when his fingertips grazed the palantir, Aragorn cried out in shocking pain, having caught the orb with both hands. The young wizard growled and pointed his wand at the ranger, "Waddiwasi!"

The globe flew once more into the air and landed with a thunk - denting the wooden flooring - and rolled towards Pippin. Aragorn slumped to the floor, gasping for breath. Harry swayed and pressed the heel of his palm to his scar as the pain slowly eased. Gandalf threw a blanket over the palantir and everyone breathed a sigh of relief. Gimli grumbled under his breath and tugged his blanket over his head

Gandalf rounded on Pippin and growled, "Fool of a Took!"

Harry grimaced at the volume of the reprimand as Pippin winced at the harsh tone. The small hobbit began trembling, muttering and rocking back and forth. Harry stumbled to his bag, pulled out his small potions case and sought out a calming draught. The young wizard crouched before Pippin and popped the seal before thrusting it at the big footed brunette. "Here, Pippin, drink this. It's a calming draught so you don't go into shock."

Pippin's hand was shaking too much and Harry pressed the vial to his lips, helping him drink the potion. The hobbit closed his eyes for a moment and muttered aloud, "Forgive me."

The elderly wizard moved to crouch before the hobbit and addressed him. His tone was calmer, yet the urgency was still present, "Look at me! What did you see?"

"A tree… There was a white tree…" The brunette hobbit blinked his eyes open and stared up at Gandalf, "It's in a courtyard of stone. It was dead." Pippin's voice was monotone as he continued, "The city was burning…"

"Minas Tirith?" Gandalf asked no one in particular before focusing on Pippin once more, "Is that what you saw?"

Pippin looked confused as he continued to mutter the disjointed thoughts tumbling about in his head, "I saw… I saw _him_… I could hear his voice in my head."

Merry gasped, but Gandalf refused to allow Pippin to become distracted, "And what did you tell him? Speak!"

The hobbit instinctively recoiled at the displayed anger, "He asked me my name, I didn't answer…" Pippin stared at Gandalf with a bemused look, "he hurt me."

"What about Frodo?" Gandalf gripped the hobbit's shoulder and barely resisted the urge to shake the brunette, "What did you tell him about Frodo and the Ring?"

* * *

**AN:** I'm going out of town this weekend. So I won't be posting anything on Saturday.


	11. You Fight And I'll Heal

**AN: **Since I'm not in town this weekend, I'm posting Saturday's chapter early. Next chapter won't be up until I get back home and get it proofread.

Kairan1979 ... erm ... I did? There was no reason to end on a cliff hanger. None what so ever and honestly I hadn't realized I did that. Oops? On the bright side, you didn't have to wait until Saturday to see the next chapter. Hopefully I'm forgiven now.

Have a great weekend folks!

* * *

**You Fight And I'll Heal.**

If one looked to the east, they would see the beginning of a new day as the sun made its majestic rise into the sky. Yellow and orange fought valiantly with the dark shadows that threatened to stay eternally in the cloudy sky.

Harry watched the play of light, the fight for dominance, in the sky from a window in the Golden Hall. The heated conversation that went on behind him held little interest to him; only the outcome would affect him in some way. Being a pawn in a war meant the big plans and worrying belonged to others. The young wizard was oddly comforted in that knowledge.

"Are you sure, Gandalf? We risk much on the word of this hobbit." Théoden's voice boomed across the room making his opinion rather clear.

"There was no lie in Pippin's eyes; a fool, but an honest fool he remains. He told Sauron nothing of Frodo and the Ring." Gandalf stressed the point once again. Harry turned from the window and watched as Théoden gave a thoughtful nod. "We've been strangely fortunate. What Pippin saw in the Palantir was a glimpse of our enemy's plan. Sauron moves to strike the city of Minas Tirith.

"His defeat at Helm's Deep showed our enemy one thing. The heir of Elendil has come forth." All eyes flitted to Aragorn. The ranger stiffened, but stood tall, brave, assured and noble, but Gandalf wasn't through with his current speech or giving his words of wisdom. "Men are not as weak as he supposed. There is courage still - strength enough left to challenge him. Sauron fears this. He will not risk the peoples of Middle Earth uniting under one banner. He will raze Minas Tirith to the ground before he sees the return of the King."

Harry leaned against the window sill and watched the varying reactions of contemplation, resignation, determination and acceptance. Théoden stood before a roaring fire, held one arm across his chest supporting his elbow and stroked his short blonde beard deep in thought. Gimli sat at a nearby table, flexing his grip on his axe that laid across his lap. Legolas stood between the contemplating king and animatedly speaking wizard, arms folded behind him as he stood stoically and listened. Aragorn's gaze was on the floor as if lost in thought. The two hobbits sat nervously at the table across from Gimli, their heads whipped to each speaker as if watching a Wimbledon match. Éowyn stood apart from the others, partially hidden in shadow with a hand over her mouth as if to keep her words from spilling forth.

The young wizard felt much like the blonde sword maiden: not truly a part of the conversation and any opinion either of them might have would be unwelcomed by the others. Harry kept silent when Gandalf turned to the king, "If the beacons of Gondor are lit, Rohan must be ready for war!"

Théoden was startled out of his thoughts by the wizard's demand. The contemplated look turned to twist the man's feature into a challenging sneer, "Tell me, why should we ride to the aid of those who did not come to ours? What do we owe Gondor?"

Harry huffed in annoyance, catching the king's attention. Théoden scowled at the young Istar, "Do you have something to add, child?"

The wizard had kept silent during the debates, but at that slight Harry stood tall and openly glared, showing his impatience. Aragorn gave the young man a warning glance and furrowed his eyebrows. Harry crossed his arms defiantly, ignoring the ranger's unspoken counsel and challenged Théoden. "You may not owe Gondor, but their future king risked his very life to aid you in your time of need. Not only did Aragorn fight and bleed along side your men, it was because of the Fellowship that reinforcements came to Helm's Deep. Many of your people survived thanks to our efforts."

Intentionally or not Harry had distracted the king, giving Gandalf a chance to speak to Aragorn in hushed undertones. When the younger wizard was finished with his tirade, the elderly maia announced, interrupting any rebuttal the king could manage in response to Harry's outburst, "Understand this… things are now in motion that cannot be undone. I ride for Minas Tirith!" Gandalf's gaze hardened when he looked at Pippin, "And I won't be going alone."

Pippin let out a squeak of surprise, Merry winced and Harry nodded in understanding. Pippin looked to his best friend for council, "But why? Why do I have to go?"

"Because you looked." Merry huffed, but couldn't quite pull off the indignant look he was after. The hobbit sighed at his friend, "Come on."

"Where are we going?" Pippin asked as he scampered behind Merry.

Merry paused at the door to the room they had shared and sighed heavily, "Why did you look? Why do you _always_ have to look?"

"I don't know. I can't help it." Pippin replied petulantly.

"You never can."

Merry went into the room with Pippin on his tail his apology was cut off as the door was closed. "I'm sorry, alright? I-"

Harry stared at the closed door and took a calming breath. Emotions were running high for the hobbits and the young wizard felt the pull to comfort them. It wasn't the same as his arguments with Ron, but the feeling of loss was similar. Only Harry wasn't about to follow the bickering cousins, he had questions that he hoped to get answered. "What more can you tell me about the palantir?"

"There were seven in total brought to Middle Earth. The Dúnedain placed the stones across large distances in order to communicate with one another. They are mostly unaccounted for, lost or stolen." Gandalf looked momentarily pained and contemplated his words, "They are seeing stones, once used for security, but are now tied to Sauron and therefore risky to use."

"I didn't touch it long, barely brushed it with my fingertips, but the pain was blinding - right at my scar. It felt as if my head wanted to split open." Harry's gaze drifted towards the closed door where the two hobbits had exited the room. "I'm surprised Pippin is doing as well as he is. He held it the longest."

"Hobbits are surprisingly resilient." Gandalf sighed, "Sauron was angered by his resistance."

"I'm familiar with the punishments doled out by dark lords." Harry rubbed his forehead, "It felt a lot like when Voldemort ripped into my mind. That thing appears to be more dangerous than you can imagine. What are you going to do with the thing?"

"It belongs to the Dúnedain and will remain with Aragorn."

"It's tainted with dark magic." Harry looked at Aragorn who frowned at this bit of news. "I suggest not using it until its been cleansed or Sauron is dead for good."

The door opened again, gaining everyone's attention. The two hobbits walked back in, still bickering as Pippin hitched his bag on his shoulder, "I won't do it again."

"Don't you understand?" Merry rounded on his friend, "The Enemy thinks you have the Ring. He's going to be looking for you, Pip. They have to get you out of here!"

Harry pushed away from the window and moved to follow the Fellowship out of the Golden Hall. Gandalf beckoned Pippin forward, "Of all the inquisitive hobbits, Peregrin Took, you are the worst. Hurry, we must leave now."

Pippin gripped his belongings tighter and hurried along. He glanced at Merry, "And you. You're coming with me… Merry?"

Merry couldn't meet his cousin's gaze. He gripped Pippin's arm and rushed out the door behind Gandalf, "Come on!"

Gimli stood at the steps of the Golden Hall beside Legolas. Aragorn helped Gandalf with the stallion near the stable. The regal horse stood patiently as Pippin was unceremoniously dumped onto his back.

Pippin looked down at Merry, denial and confusion still plainly written on his face. "How far is Minas Tirith?"

Harry stood beside Merry and Aragorn. Gandalf hopped on to the horse as he answered, "Three days ride as the nazgûl flies and you'd better hope we don't have one of those on our tail."

"What's a nazgûl?" Harry looked to Aragorn for an answer.

Aragorn frowned a moment before he tore his gaze from the old wizard, "The nazgûl are ring-wraiths, neither living nor dead. They were once mortal men, proud and great. Each were given Rings of Power. They fell under the domination of the One, and became Sauron's most terrible servants."

Harry canted his head and peered at the sight of Shadowfax and his riders fading into the horizon. "Do they fly?"

"On hell-hawks, yes."

"Then," Harry blinked in confusion and shook his head, "what Gandalf just said makes _no_ sense at all."

* * *

"You _are_ here."

Harry continued to stir seven times anti-clockwise. The young wizard set aside his stirrer, adjusted the heat and responded once he gave Aragorn his full attention. "You sound surprised."

"I am." Aragorn looked into the cauldron at the mixture within as the red color of its contents deepened, "What are you cooking and more importantly _why_ are you cooking when you should be training?"

"I'm not cooking." Harry held up a hand to hold Aragorn's rebuttal and continued, "I'm brewing; there's a subtle difference. I'm running low on healing potions and found an ideal place to make more. The cooks aren't kicking me out because they're in between meals. So now is the only time I can be in here providing I clean up after myself, plus they understand the need for my medicine."

Aragorn gave the younger man a small grin, "I understand the need for medicine as well _and_ know first-hand how much your potions help. Is there anything I can do to aid you?"

Harry cocked his head to the side, "How familiar are you with herbology?"

"Herbology? I'm afraid I don't know what that is."

"Hmm," Harry moved to where his bag laid on the table nearby and searched for one of the books. "Herbology is the study of plants, their many uses and how best to take care of them. Some are used for medicinal purposes, others are for defensive uses and yet others for consumption." Harry found the book he was searching for and opened it up to find images of the plants he would need to harvest from if he were to be able to create more potions, "Of course there are plants that are just nice to look at, but we don't trouble ourselves with those much."

Aragorn made his way around the table and stood next to the wizard. He watched as the younger man flipped through pages until he stopped and pointed at a plant. Aragorn gave a nod of recognition, "Athelas, it is a healing herb. The men call it kingsfoil."

"Great, I'll need more. One cauldron makes a dozen potions. I've made three so far, but I'm almost out of a fair few ingredients. Three dozen vials won't last a full on battle and if the talks are anything to go by then we'll be in need of plenty more." Harry looked for another plant that he required for his potions, "This one?"

"Elanor." Aragorn then went on to respond whenever Harry pointed to a plant or flower, grimacing at the last one, "Niphredil, it is a pale winter flower, but the season for that plant has passed." Aragorn peered at the young man beside him, "Will that be a problem?"

"It is needed for the blood replenishing potion." Harry shook his head, "It will make recovery times longer, but not impossible."

"Simbelmynë," Aragorn randomly pointed at one of the plants, "This flower is very common in Rohan. It grows near the tombs."

"Their graves?" Harry shuddered, "Creepy." The wizard extinguished the flame beneath the cauldron. "Still, having all of these herbs and roots available is a good thing. I'll have to work on harvesting what I can and continue brewing while we wait for… _whatever_ it is we're waiting for."

"The call for aid from Gondor," Aragorn reminded the young man. "There is no telling when it will come and we must be prepared to answer."

"You're awfully sure how the king will react. He was against it last I heard." Harry lined up the clean vials and began filling one with the cooling health potion. He held the vial up and inspected its purity. It wasn't up to Snape's standards, but it was brewed correctly and its color was right even if it wasn't quite the right consistency.

"What are you doing? Is there something wrong with the potion?" Aragorn peered at the vial in question.

"It's just a habit of mine. I check the potion for color and consistency." Harry stoppered the vial and handed it over to Aragorn. "The color is good, but the consistency is off. Your water is different. Next batch I have to ensure to use a lesser amount of water until I have it right."

As Harry continued to fill the vials, Aragorn set the one he had in hand beside the others. "Is that going to be a problem?"

"Not at all. Providing the potion is within limits, it is still usable and really at this point in the war we can't be too picky. If a potion is passable, we're going to use it. It could save a life." Harry pulled out a quill and ink, plucked a vial and began labeling them. Each labeled vial was gently placed in his leather carrier. "I'm sorry I missed our set time for training. I just figured I should take advantage of the time allotted to get this brewing done. I'll be kicked out in about fifteen minutes, which is just enough time to get my cauldron washed and the area cleaned up."

"And plenty of daylight for training." Harry tried not to groan, but failed, much to the amusement of Aragorn. The ranger teased the wizard, "Come now. It isn't that bad!"

* * *

Harry had cleaned up his potions, caldrons and utensils. He then ensured his work space was cleaned before turning it back over to the cooks. The wizard thanked the ladies before heading to the Golden Hall.

Éowyn was already in the room. She hadn't noticed the young teen walk in and kept swinging her sword in very smooth, practiced moves. Her golden hair fanned out when she swung and she lunged forward, spearing her invisible foe with a flourish.

"Well done. I'll make you a deal. You fight and I'll heal. That way we both get what we want." Harry gave the woman a crooked grin when she whipped around, sword held in a battle stance and her eyes wild with surprise. "Having already fought one war - and two battles since arriving - I think I'm over the idea of wars and killing. I think healing is my new calling. Save lives, not take them… although I've been told that by killing Voldemort I saved lives. Unfortunately neither of us will get what we want. I'll have to fight in this bloody war and you'll be sent away by your uncle to watch over the women and children. Still, it sounded like a good plan."

"Women of this country learned long ago: Those without swords may still die upon them." Éowyn stood proudly before the wizard and sheathed her sword. The steel in her gaze dared him to object or contradict her. When he did neither, the golden haired lady of Rohan continued, "I fear neither death nor pain."

"Hmmm, that's what I figured. I don't fear pain, but I'd rather not have any, thanks." Harry strode to a nearby table and placed a leather case filled with two dozen vials upon the wood surface. The young wizard flipped the top open before glancing over his shoulder at Éowyn, "So you'll be coming along when the beacon is lit." It wasn't a question, therefore didn't require a response. Harry quickly cast a few impenetrable charms on the case to keep it from breaking easily. He also added a charm to each vial. "In that case, I am entrusting this case of healing potions to your care. There are only a couple dozen so use them wisely.

"I have another dozen," Harry looked at Éowyn, "Unfortunately I ran out of supplies. Aragorn will be helping me harvest what ingredients he can. Then I'll brew more. What do you suggest I do with this dozen? Give them to your brother, the healer, your uncle-"

"Why do you ask me?" Éowyn gently ran her fingers over the leather. "Why are you not bringing them? Will you not require the medicine if you're to be healing the injured?"

"I have a satchell that will be filled as well and, really, that won't matter since we're not coming from the same direction."

Éowyn paled, "What do you mean?"

"It was something that Aragorn had said."

"What, pray tell, did he say?"

"When the time comes, we'll take another road." Harry looked at Éowyn and told her, "Gandalf said to follow the river and look to the black ships."

* * *

**AN:** I realize herbology is also known as herbalism so I looked them up on the LOTR wiki and it said 'results not found'. So I went with that.


	12. Never Again

**AN: **I'm home! Gosh, nothing makes me appreciate home more than spending time with family. Love them dearly, but the head games have got to end sometime. I mean seriously, Pops is 83 years old. When does it end?

Over 400 followers. I'm stunned and humbled. I know this isn't the greatest story around the FanFiction website, but apparently it isn't horrid either. Thanks for sticking around folks!

* * *

**Never Again.**

Harry had taken his potions case and duplicated it. Duplicatam was a Conjuration spell he had learned in his Transfiguration book that duplicated items. The young wizard was chuffed when he managed to do the spell properly, not just once but twice.

The Gryffindor had cast an enlargement charm within the interior of the leather carrying case that he had put together for Éowyn and added more vials. He repeated his actions for the second leather carrying case while speaking to the young man sitting at the table beside him, "Éowyn has already agreed to carry that case of potions in order to help her people. I have a case and then there is this one. I've been thinking of who I could ask, who I can trust to use these potions wisely and you are the obvious choice.

"Each vial will heal most light to medium types of injuries: scratches, gashes, cuts, stab wounds, gouges, minor internal injuries and heavy internal bruising - external bruising needs a salve that I simply don't have the spare ingredients for. Those will have to heal naturally.

"The potions will not bring back the dead or dying, nor will they replace missing limbs. So if a warrior is that far along, don't waste the potion on him."

"Seems rather heartless," Merry looked into the case that was thrust before him, "but it makes sense to use them on someone it will benefit."

"Hmm," Harry hummed noncommittally as he had already turned his attention back to his biggest project since arriving in Middle Earth. He was bent over the stones, painstakingly etching runes. With a gentle breath of air, Harry blew the debris from his work.

"Harry?"

"Hmm?"

"What are these?" Merry had been asking numerous questions since Pippin left for Minas Tirith. Apparently the blonde missed his cousin and began following members of the fellowship around Edoras. The two cousins had exchanged a few letters - courtesy of Hedwig - and when he received word that Pippin joined the service of Gondor's steward 'with a uniform and a sword and everything', Merry was determined to be just as useful and became a squire to the king.

Harry continued to work as he spoke, "These are rune stones."

"That one looks like your scar."

"Sowilo," Harry pointed at each rune and named them, "Algiz, Nauthiz, Eihwaz and Fehu." The young wizard worked on three sets of each rune. He etched them again and again until the cuts were deeply embedded in each stone. "My best friend back home had taught me the basics on runes and I've been reading up on them when I've had time."

Merry hesitated, but Harry saw his movements and encouraged the young hobbit to handle the stones. The blonde ran a finger over the smooth face of a Sowilo rune stone, "What do they do?"

"Right now, they do nothing. Imbued with my magic they provide protections and will aid the one who wears them." Once more Harry pointed to each stone, starting with the one in the hobbit's hand, "Sowilo - sun, victory, power; Algiz - defense, shield, warding off evil; Nauthiz - endurance, survival, determination; Eihwaz - strength, reliability, dependability; Fehu - abundance, hope, success.

"I etch the rune into the stone, imbue it with my magic and then shrink it to fit into what I'm warding. Unfortunately I haven't really talked them into allowing me to mess with their armor yet, but I'm sure they won't fight me too much." Harry set down the stone he was working on and pointed at the crystal that Merry had picked up to inspect, "That is an agate crystal. Agate is a cryptocrystalline variety of silica, chiefly chalcedony, characterized by its fineness of grain and brightness of color."

"Wow, how do you remember all of that?" Merry blinked in surprise.

"I just read that bit about the agate crystals this morning," Harry admitted sheepishly, "Ask me again tomorrow and I won't know it from any other rock. The agate's properties are balancing energy, courage, protection, healing, and calming. It's why I needed that specific crystal.

"Anyhow, I read up on them because I wanted to make something for you and Éowyn that won't get in the way of when you're helping others and I wasn't sure either of you would be wearing armor for a set of stones such as these." Harry had pointed in the general direction of the set of stones he had been working on. "I'm going to etch an Algiz rune in it as well, but if you'd like something different, pick another and we'll see how it goes."

"Is there anything I can do to help?"

'No' was on the tip of his tongue, but instead he nodded, "Sure." Harry had no idea how the hobbit would help, but the blonde looked so eager. The young wizard looked around at the stones, leather straps, work cloths and various other supplies when the idea came to him. "These rune stones need to be smooth. If there are any rough edges, use this to buff it out. I have to do the etching because of my magic, but that will help me a lot. Then I can start imbuing and shrinking them.

"If you like, you can pick out which crystals we use for the pendants. There are shiny crystals and rougher ones." Harry picked up a small rock that was a dull red, "These aren't nearly as girly as the shiny ones."

Merry laughed, "I was wondering if I had to wear something like that. It's fine for Lady Éowyn."

The two worked together for quite some time before being summoned for sword practice. Harry perked up at the sight of all three Fellowship warriors, "Just the men I wanted to speak to."

"An' why would tha' be, lad?" Gimli peered at the young wizard, "Are ya up ta somethin'?"

"Me? Up to something?" As Harry blinked at the dwarf in faux innocence, Merry had to hide his huge grin. Legolas came around and took a seat beside the hobbit in order to take a closer look at what the two had been working on. Harry hadn't missed a beat and deadpanned, "I just wanted to make sure your armor was protected and reinforced… and this is the thanks I get."

Gimli huffed, "Ya never know when dealin' wi' a wizard."

Grinning unabashedly, Harry motioned towards the linked rune stones that Aragorn was currently handling, "I've created a rune chain of warding spells. If you let me put it in your armor with a permanent sticking charm, they'll protect you. They won't keep you alive if you do something silly like run out unarmed in the middle of a field of orcs. But it adds a level of shielding."

Harry continued explaining the meaning of each rune, how they were created and what he did to accomplish the feat. Gimli peered at the array of stones as Aragorn took a seat beside Harry. The ranger grinned at the young wizard, "You've been busy."

The reaction that was returned apparently surprised the man as Aragorn's eyebrow rose. Harry's humor had slipped away to be replaced by a haunted look, "I've lost too many people in my world: my parents, my godfather, Remus and Tonks, Dumbledore, Cedric, family, teachers, mentors, classmates, acquaintances and friends. My best friend, Hermione, was tortured and I was powerless to help her.

"If I knew even half of what I do now, things may have turned out differently. I made a promise to myself: never again." Harry ran his fingers gingerly over the runes, "I use my magic to stop the enemy. I use my magic to defend, protect and heal my allies. If there is a way to help those around me, to keep them from suffering, I will."

Harry was brought out of his spiraling thoughts when Aragorn gripped his shoulder firmly and gave it a supportive squeeze, "I'd be honored to have your aid. What do you need of me in order to place your runes within my armor?"

* * *

The wizard had debated which wand to use. His holly wand would do well enough, but the Elder wand held much more power even if it was more attuned towards destruction. In the end of his personal debate, Harry chose the Elder wand. He didn't want to take any chances with such intricate wand work.

Five chest plates were fitted with as much protection as the young wizard could muster: two plate mail, two chain mail and one leather. The rune stones were bound upon the armor, gently pulsing with his magic. King Théoden was told about the wizard's work at protecting the Fellowship and had allowed Éowyn to talk him into being outfitted with a set of rune stones as well. Éomer was reluctant to follow suit, but his sister was apparently quite good at convincing the men in her life to abide to her demands.

Théoden and Éomer were being strapped back into their armor when the doors to the Golden Hall were thrown open, causing Harry to jump in surprise. A large shimmering shield blasted forth, knocking Aragorn back a few steps.

The ranger shook his head to regain his bearings and pressed his hand forward to test the magical barrier as a distant bell rang.

"Ah," Harry grinned sheepishly, "You startled me. Sorry about that, yeah?"

"It's most impressive, but could you perhaps lower the barrier?"

"It's a shield actually," Harry canted his head to the side, "My magic is stronger here. Gandalf seems to think it has to do with Middle Earth being more magical than Earth where I was born. Personally, I think tha-"

"Harry," Aragorn interrupted, "the shield?"

"Oh," Harry blushed, "Right. Finite."

Théoden watched the exchange in amusement, "What brings the hero of Helms Deep rushing into my hall?"

Aragorn's attention was directed back to the man he had come to see. "The beacons of Minas Tirith are lit! Gondor calls for aid!"

The king stiffened at the news, his brow furrowed and hands clenched into fists as heads turned towards him for his orders. Théoden pondered his reply, but Harry already knew his own response because there was no other option. The wizard gathered his supplies and stowed his wand, preparing to leave.

"Then Rohan will answer. Muster the Rohirrim!" The Golden Hall came to life at the man's words. Théoden gave a small nod to his nephew and gave him the order, "Assemble the army at Dunharrow - as many men as can be found. You have two days. On the third, we ride for Gondor… and war!"

As Éomer ran from the Golden Hall with his soldiers in his wake Théoden called out again, "Gamling, make haste across the Riddermark. Summon every able-bodied man to Dunharrow!"

Gamling bowed to his king and rushed to carry out the orders given to him. Aragorn summoned the Fellowship to him and the four strode purposefully towards the room they had been issued during their stay. Harry had followed them and stood at the doorway, glancing behind him in time to see that Théoden had gone outside with his soldiers, leaving the Golden Hall virtually empty.

Harry watched as the Fellowship gathered their belongings and prepared to leave. Legolas had slipped his armor on and gave the wizard a startled look, "I can feel the warmth of your magic."

Aragorn nodded, "As can I."

"I dunno wha' you two are goin on abou'. I don' feel a thing." Gimli retorted, "Are ya sure ya did mine right?"

Harry smirked at the dwarf, "You're simply not magic sensitive."

Gimli huffed, "Sensitive, 'e says. I'm righ' sensitive… when it counts."

Merry slipped his agate necklace into his shirt, "I'm glad I'm not the only one. I didn't want to say something earlier."

The four were chuckling at Gimli's continuous claims of being 'sensitive, as it is in his nature' as they left the Golden Hall for what could be their last time. Harry paused at the entrance when he saw a familiar young man, "Sondim, please tell me you aren't going."

Sondim turned his troubled eyes to his new friend, "My father forbade me, but he has gone off with the Riders of the Riddermark."

Harry gave the teen's shoulder a comforting squeeze, "Your father is a strong warrior. I'm sure he will be fine. Besides I gave both Éowyn and Merry a stash of healing potions. So try to have a little faith."

"Will you ride with them?" Sondim gripped Harry's robe and searched the wizard's eyes for a glimpse of hope.

"We're supposed to ride to some place called…"

"Dunharrow…" Sondim prompted.

"Right," Harry gave a lopsided grin, "That's where we'll split. They said something about flanking the enemy. I'm not big on warfare strategy, but it sounds like a good plan."

Éomer's voice bellowed from below. The Third Marshal sat astride his horse as he called to the assembled soldiers, "Now is the hour! Riders of Rohan - oaths you have taken. Now, fulfil them all - to Lord and land!"

Harry gently pried Sondhim's hand from his sleeve and gave him a small nod, "Stay safe."

* * *

The raven haired teen hurriedly entered the stable and grinned in relief when he found his gray horse already saddled. Harry checked to make sure his cushioning charms had held and led the mare outside.

Soldiers, wives, squires and children were all out and about preparing for the ride to Dunharrow. Théoden sat astride his horse, alongside him were soldiers and the Fellowship. A flash of white caught Harry's attention and he smiled up at his familiar. Hedwig flew down and landed upon his outstretched arm, "Hello, girl."

The gray mare nervously side stepped before Harry pulled gently on the reins to come up beside Aragorn and Merry. "You have another letter, Merry."

"Thanks," Merry dutifully accepted his correspondence from his cousin and gave Hedwig a grateful scratch. Hedwig chirped happily.

Harry gave the bird a firm look, "We're heading to some mountain area. I will have a letter for you when we rest. Don't go wandering off too far."

Hedwig hopped onto her human's shoulder gave Harry a nip on his ear and settled in for the ride. Théoden chuckled softly at the bird's antics before turning his gaze at his people and their surroundings, "So, it is before the walls of Minas Tirith that the fate of our time will be decided."

* * *

"Grimbold, how many?" Théoden called out.

"I bring five hundred men from the Westfold, my Lord."

Having heard the request for a count, other Marshals of the Riddermark gave updates as well, "We have three hundred more from Fenmarch, Theoden, King."

"None have come from Snowbourn, My Lord."

Harry didn't slow to listen to the others calling out as they passed the masses of tents, horses and soldiers; his mind was already on setting up his tent and taking a hot shower. He had come to the decision that riding horses - while faster than walking - was only marginally better than a portkey… and he hated portkey travel. They moved slowly in a single file up a narrow zig-zag trail leading up to the mesa where they would set up camp.

At the top of the plateau there were already numerous tents set up for the night. Éomer had arrived shortly before they had and was removing the saddle from his horse, "Ah, little wizard. I see you survived another journey. We'll make a true rider of the Riddermark of you yet!"

The young man snorted and dismounted, twisting this way and that as he tried to get the kinks out of his back, "I still saying flying is better than riding."

Éomer chuckled and helped him remove the gray mare's saddle, "Come along, little wizard. I'll show you where you can set up your tent."

The two walked along with the other Fellowship members minus Merry who had disappeared to carry out some squire task for the king. Éomer pointed out a tent that was simple in design yet larger than some and not nearly as large as the one being pitched beside it, "That one is for Aragorn. He will be housed beside our king. Your tent can be on his other side."

"Excellent!" Harry immediately opened his school bag, drew his wand and summoned his tent. Setting the bundle on the ground, the young wizard tapped it with his wand and stepped back to watch it expand and snap in place. Harry grinned at the others and invited them in, "You're welcome to stay with me. There are beds inside that are much more comfortable than a cot. Plus I can duplicate them if we need more.

"In the meantime, if you'll excuse me." The wizard gave a small bow of respect, "There's a shower inside calling my name."

Harry entered his temporary abode and immediately went into the room on the left. He dropped his bag and searched for clean clothes, finding decent trousers and a shirt, but all of his pants were dirty. With a soft sigh, Harry used a quick scourgify and grabbed a towel.

The shower felt heavenly. Cleanliness was a luxury that he quickly learned not to take for granted. Upon exiting the bathroom with a towel wrapped around his hips, Harry paused long enough to do a double take. Merry was excitedly explaining to Legolas and Gimli about his new armor. The wizard gave the hobbit a lopsided grin, "I don't have any more rune stones, but I can etch them directly in your armor if you give me time to dress."

Gimli sniffed and wrinkled his nose, "Ya smell flowery."

"I'm clean. You smell like a horse." Harry wrinkled his nose and made his way to his room to dress in clean clothes.

Gimli had assisted the hobbit in removing his chest plate and sat to watch the wizard. When Harry exited his room he went to the kitchen before joining the others at the table. He handed each of his guests a bottle, once he had removed the tops.

"Cheers," Harry took a long swig from his butterbeer before setting the bottle on the table.

The raven haired teen set his tools out and plucked up the pen knife in order to set to work. Gimli sniffed at the contents while Legolas peered at the container. Merry sipped hesitantly and hummed in appreciation. "It's tasty, if a bit weak. Ale is stronger."

"That's butterbeer. You can't get it here. It's from my world and safe for teenagers to drink until they come of age." Harry carefully drew the chain of runes into the armor. "I have firewhiskey, but since we're heading into battle I thought it would be better to hold off on handing that out."

Legolas cautiously took a sip of his own, "Interesting taste, not disagreeable. The container is made of glass?"

"Yes," Harry wiped away the small debris from his work, "wizards in my world use glass often. Easy to clean, conjure and repair."

Gimli tipped the bottle back and drank it all in one go. He slammed the bottle on the table and released a long, loud belch. "Tastes like horse piss."

"I wouldn't know," Harry smirked, "I've never drank horse piss before. I'll just have to take your word for it."

The dwarf laughed good-naturedly and stood from the table, "Ach, ya daft lad. I'm off ta find me a real drink."

The elf set his now empty bottle on the table beside the one left by the dwarf, "I require sustenance. Thank you for sharing your…"

"Butterbeer," Merry prompted and took another drink from his bottle.

"Yes, a taste of your world," Legolas gave a nod and exited.

"I suppose it is an acquired taste." Harry just grinned at the armor as he continued to work. He brushed away the slivers and nicked his finger. Hissing, Harry pulled his hand away from the work and stared in surprise at the runes.

"They're glowing," Merry said in a hushed, awed voice.

"It's not a common practice to use blood in wards or magic. It is considered dark magic by many because of how one acquires the blood for most rituals."

"How…"

"Unwillingly taken," Harry pulled up his sleeve to bare his forearm showing the raised scar he received in fourth year courtesy of the rebirth ritual for Voldemort, "Not all rituals are evil or for evil purposes," Harry then raised his bangs to show the infamous Boy-Who-Lived scar, "some are sacrifices to protect others."

Merry peered at his friend, "That was blood magic?"

"My mother drew the sowilo on my forehead with her own blood when I was a toddler. The blood eventually washed off, but the magical intent was still there waiting," Harry fixed his bangs over his scar, "the night Mum was murdered it was sealed. She willingly sacrificed her life to save mine. When Voldemort turned his wand on me to kill me, the ward shielded me, bounced the curse back to him and created this scar."

"So if you die…"

"I'm not doing the same ritual that my mother did, Merry. You're a good friend, but I'm not sacrificing myself. I'd rather just protect you." Merry slumped in relief and Harry just grinned at the hobbit, "Well, the runes are complete. Let's get this thing imbued."

"Oh, and I have to get to the smithy." Merry patted his short sword sheathed at his side, "I'm supposed to get my sword sharpened."

"Hopefully you won't need it since you'll be in the back healing folks, but it is best to have it ready if you do." Harry stood and helped the hobbit put his armor back on. Harry was tightening the buckles when Merry gasped. The wizard glanced at the hobbit, "What's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong. It's your magic," Merry blushed when he spoke, "it feels like a warm hug."

* * *

Harry woke with a start. In one fluid motion, the wizard grabbed his wand and pointed it at the intruder. Legolas appeared unfazed by the raven haired teen's reaction and spoke in a calm voice, "Your presence is requested."

"Legolas?" Harry rubbed the sleep from his eyes as he sat up.

"Yes," there was amusement in Legolas' voice, "You're being summoned to the King's tent."

Still half asleep, the teen swung his legs off the bed and straightened his glasses, "Is Aragorn okay?"

Laughing now Legolas clarified, "Get up, Istar and go to King Théoden's tent."

Harry slipped his wand into its holster, grabbed a jumper and pulled it over his head. He then put on socks and shoved his feet into his dragon hide boots. Combing his fingers through his wild hair, Harry asked, "Is someone hurt?"

"Not that I'm aware." Legolas backed out of Harry's room and into the common area of the tent where Gimli and Merry were putting on their armor. Both warrior and squire looked as sleepy as Harry felt. The elf, on the other hand, looked well rested and ready to face the day.

When Harry exited the tent, the young man groaned. "It's not even morning."

"The sun will rise in an hour's time." Legolas gave the wizard a knowing smirk, "He's waiting."

Grumbling, Harry marched over to the King's tent and stopped short when he entered. An elf - tall, regal, long black hair and wearing a circlet - stood inside speaking with Aragorn. "You ride to war, but not to victory. Sauron's armies march on Minas Tirith - this you know - but in secret he sends another force which will attack from the river."

"A fleet of Corsair ships sails from the South." Aragorn responded. The elf looked surprised, both by Aragorn's knowledge and the sudden appearance of a young man in strange clothing. The ranger looked behind him and ushered the wizard in, "Lord Elrond, may I present to you, Istar Harry."

Elrond's eyebrow rose to a great height in a very Snape like fashion and Harry grinned at the similarity. He greeted the man much as he had with Éomer, "It is a pleasure to meet you, Lord Elrond. I am Harry, Head of the Noble House of Potter, son of James, The Boy-Who-Lived, and Vanquisher of Dark Lord Voldemort. I am a native of Earth, but here in Middle Earth some call me-"

"The Vanquisher," Elrond supplied.

Harry gave a polite - over exaggerated - bow, "At your service."

"You're quite young for an Istar," Elrond's eyebrow slowly lowered, but the doubt and questions that were unspoken, yet were written in his gaze, remained.

"True," Harry preferred Elrond's polite reaction to Éomer calling him a child, "I began my training at the age of eleven - which is the age all wizards and witches start on Earth. Where I'm from there are many more magicals than just the five known Maiar here on Middle Earth."

"You are not Maia." Though said as a statement, it was evidently a question.

"Nope," Harry shifted his weight from one foot to the other, wondering why he had been summoned.

"Yet you are powerful," Elrond observed. "There is hope then."

"There's always hope," Harry looked from Elrond to Aragorn, "Is it time to head towards the ships then?"

Elrond interrupted, "You're out-numbered, Aragorn. You need more men."

Aragorn frowned, "There are none."

"There are those who dwell in the mountain."

"Murderers, traitors - you would call upon them to fight? They believe in nothing. They answer to no one."

Elrond's voice grew stern as he moved his cloak aside and drew out a long black scabbard, "They will answer to the King of Gondor. Anduril, flame of the West - forged from the shards of Narsil."

Aragorn accepted the sword, grabbed the hilt and drew the long blade from its sheath. Harry stared in wide eyed wonder as the sword glinted in the firelight. The ranger slowly turned the blade, allowing the light to show the intricate etchings along the length. Aragorn's voice was awed, "Sauron will not have forgotten the sword of Elendil. The blade that was broken shall return to Minas Tirith."

"The man who can wield the power of this sword can summon to him an army more deadly than any that walks this earth." Elrond's stern voice was a deep baritone. Harry shuddered at the similarities between the elf and professor. "Put aside the Ranger - become who you were born to be - take the Dimholt Road."

Harry's gaze dropped to the blade in Aragorn's hands as he slid the long sword back into the scabbard and gripped the leather tightly. The future king of Gondor's blue eyes sought out the wizard's green gaze, "It is time."

The wizard had felt the weight of Aragorn's decision and knew that their path was decided, "Yes, sir." Turning to the elf, Harry bowed once again, "It was an honor to have made your acquaintance. Perhaps our paths will cross again in more… pleasant times."

"The honor is mine, Vanquisher." Elrond raised a fist, pressed to his chest and returned the bow.

* * *

Created spell(s):

Duplicatam - Transfiguration/Conjuration: Duplicates


	13. We Will Yield

**AN:** Thanks to 0bsidianjade and MutantRancor. They both mentioned the Geminio spell and while I had thought about using that one, I thought it wasn't a good fit because:

1. It was triggered by touch and duplicated each time an item was touched or touched someone filling the vault (or maybe that was just a curse and I over thought that point) and let's not forget that said duplicated items burned the would be thieves;

2. The duplicates were useless / worthless and only lasted for a few hours. I needed the cases to be permanent or - at the very least - last about a week's time.

* * *

**We Will Yield.**

Harry checked his tent, noting that it was empty of the other occupants and their gear. He grabbed an apple, hitched his school bag more securely on his shoulder and made his way out of the magical shelter.

The mesa was buzzing with excitement, anticipation and probably a good dose of fear and apprehension. Harry only half listened to the conversations of the soldiers that walked past him and focused on his task.

A nearby voice whispered, "But why are they leaving?"

The response was just as hushed, "Lady Éowyn seems to know, but she's not saying. Éomer is even quiet and that little squire is sticking near-"

Harry glanced at the two dark forms walking away from him, but didn't bother to give them the answers they were seeking. Tapping the tent with his wand, Harry waited - munching on his apple - until it was neatly folded before stuffing it into his bag.

The wizard quickly made his way towards the makeshift stable where he had left the gray horse. Aragorn and Legolas were there, tightening their saddles and fixing their belongings to their respective horses. Harry saw the stable hand finish with the mare he had been riding, "Thanks."

The young man - or more accurately: the teenager - gave Harry a crooked grin, "I always know which saddle is yours. I don't know whatcha did to the thing, but it's springy like something a lady would use."

"Oh! I, erm…" Harry stammered momentarily and fed the remainder of his apple to the horse, "It's a cushioning charm." The teen helped Harry into the saddle, but refrained from commenting. The amusement in the blonde's eyes was enough to cause the wizard to sigh in embarrassment. "I'm still getting used to the whole riding thing."

Harry quit trying to justify his adjusting the saddle; the more he floundered, the more amused the stable hand became. The wizard wisely kept any further comment to himself and took in his surroundings as the sun struggled to rise, casting a pink hue over the soldiers.

Merry could be heard in the distance arguing a point to King Théoden. Harry glanced back, wondering what the disagreement was about, but from the look of things the king had already won… temporarily. As Éowyn escoted the hobbit away, Harry could easily see the stubborn look about Merry.

The sword maiden looked up as if she felt eyes upon her and their gazes locked momentarily. Éowyn gave the wizard a discreet nod of understanding and Harry returned the gesture.

Grumbling from the dwarf drew Harry's attention and the wizard watched as Gimli was hoisted onto the back of the horse he rode with Legolas. Harry noted the amusement in that same stable hand's eyes and resisted the urge to huff in indignation… barely.

Aragorn made his way back to his horse, followed by tall men each with a hooded cloak, a bow strapped to their back and a sword at their side. There were over two dozen men leading horses towards the small group.

A screech was heard by all that gathered and Harry instinctively held out his arm for her. Hedwig had gained the attention of the hooded men and several had pulled their bows and prepared to fire on the incoming snowy owl.

"Dúnedain, hold!" Aragorn bellowed and held up a fisted hand. Every bow that had been pulled was nocked with an arrow at the ready, aimed at the bird that landed gracefully on the young man's arm. Hedwig took offense to the weapons aimed at her; she spread her wings and gave them a hoot of indignation. Aragorn watched her in fascination and called off the men, "That is the wizard's pet-"

"Familiar," Harry corrected out of habit. Hedwig lowered her wings and gently nipped his finger as he continued, "Pets are owned and while Hedwig believes I belong to her, she is my companion, my equal." The wizard lovingly stroked the snowy owl's feathers. Hedwig gave a small bodily shake, turned her full attention to her human and cooed as if to say she agreed with his assessment of their relationship. "And this girl is bloody brilliant."

Each bow was lowered and one man stepped forward, pulling his hood back to show his black curly unkempt locks and piercing gray eyes. "I've never seen anything like her before. I'm Halbarad. Dúnadan, Ranger of the North." The man never took his gaze from the snowy owl's yellow eyes and spoke directly to her, "I apologize for my men. You startled them. May I?"

Hedwig's gleaming white feathers shown in the early morning sunshine as she cocked her head to the side to contemplate the request. She gave a soft coo before hopping over to the Ranger's outstretched arm. The snowy owl sat regally on Halbarad's arm, allowing him to pet her soft feathers.

"We must make haste. We have a long journey ahead," Aragorn tightened his saddlebag and gave a cursory glance over his shoulder to his traveling companions. Éomer and Théoden approached the gathering group and the ranger gave the two a nod before continuing to address the Dúnedain, Fellowship and the wizard, "We will stop the reinforcements coming from the sea and meet the army of Rohan on Pelennor Fields flanking the enemy."

The Dúnedain and Fellowship mounted their steeds. Hedwig flew back to her human, landing gently on his shoulder. Théoden spoke quietly with Aragorn as Éomer turned towards Harry. "Keep your head down and your wits about you, little wizard. The Paths of the Dead is treacherous. It is said to be haunted."

It was as if the gray mare understood the man's warning and she side stepped nervously. Harry ran a reassuring hand along the horse's thick neck, "Easy girl." The brunette turned to the blonde, "I'm not afraid of ghosts or spirits. I went to school in a castle filled with them."

Éomer reached out and gripped the gray mare's bridle in one hand, rubbing the horse's muzzle with the other, "Perhaps you have dealt with tame spirits before, but it is unwise to go forth unprepared."

"I appreciate the warning," Harry gave the man a small grin. The beautiful snowy owl affectionately nipped at the boy's ear, gaining the wizard's attention. "Hedwig, these Paths of the Dead is no place for a lady. Meet me on the other side or go visit with Luna. Stay safe."

She butted her head against Harry's in a show of affection before taking flight. Many raised their eyes to watch the owl depart. Gimli had a crooked grin on his face as he watched the bird fly away, "Tha' is a sight I will ne'er grow tired of."

Harry smiled as he watched his familiar fly off. He hadn't smiled so honestly or so completely since his arrival in Middle Earth. "Me either."

"Move out!" Aragorn led the way, followed by Legolas with Gimli. Harry gave a quick glance around and found what he was looking for. Merry stood waving beside Éowyn who simply raised a hand in farewell. The wizard gave a nod in return and a small grin. The Dúnedain soon joined the others and Harry brought up the rear. The group rode in a single file and in silence.

It was midday before the stillness was broken. The wizard managed to keep up rather well considering his aversion to riding. He looked around often; the feeling of eyes upon him caused the hair on the back of his neck to rise. Halbarad fell back and spoke quietly, "Why do you stay behind the others? You should be up front with the Fellowship."

"I'm not really a part of their group." Harry's body protested the fast pace they were riding, but he refused to whinge about his sore bum. "I'm not really a part of any group. I'm just here to help them win this war."

"That makes you a part of the group." Halbarad pointed out.

Harry's brows furrowed as he gave that some thought. Halbarad could be right, but it didn't make Harry feel more a part of the group. He was familiar with the others and friendly, but if the wizard was honest with himself, he'd have to admit that he didn't want to be a part of the Fellowship. Too many had died in his short life, too many were lost and that hollowness in the middle of his chest wouldn't allow the teen to get close enough to anyone here in fear of losing them as well.

With Halbarad's encouragement, Harry made his way towards the front of the line and took position behind Legolas and Gimli. Gimli's voice sounded gravely when he asked, "What kind of an army would linger in such a place?"

"One that is cursed," the question spoken by the dwarf may have been rhetorical, but Legolas deigned to respond either to assuage his friend's curiosity or his own need to fill the eerie silence. Either way Harry found solace in the exchange of information even if the words Legolas spoke weren't meant to give comfort, "Long ago the Men of the Mountain swore an oath to the last King of Gondor. They were to come to his aid, to fight, but when the time came - when Gondor's need was dire - they fled… vanishing into the darkness of the mountain. So Isildur cursed them; they will not rest until they have fulfilled their pledge."

Legolas' account of past actions clarified Éomer's warning about the Paths of the Dead. The wizard had explained to the Third Marshall that he had met his share of ghosts while he lived in a castle; perhaps he should have could have mentioned the mischievous poltergeist. Surviving Peeves' antics made all of the students accustomed to odd happenings. Harry wasn't afraid, but he was wary. This was where the Oathbreakers resided, the army they sought after and intended to bring along with them in order to serve the future king.

The future king… a small grin tugged at Harry's features when he watched the ranger wearing beaten armor, a dingy white shirt and a worn cloak. Aragorn - the stoic, unassuming man - was to be a king… no, not just _a king_, but the King of Gondor, the King of Men.

His gaze snapped to Legolas and Gimli as the elf spoke low and the dwarf's chuckle rumbled from his chest. From what he had learned of these two, they too were some sort of royalty. Legolas was the prince of Mirkwood and Gimli was the nephew to the late Lord of Moria, only Harry was unsure what that made the dwarf other than possibly a nobleman… nobledwarf… nobility.

Regardless of their titles, each of the three companions were warriors. That was something much grander than a silly Vanquisher.

The procession made its way through the narrow path cut between the mountains and came to a standstill around the midway mark. Aragorn dismounted first. He walked to the side of the rocky cliff and that's when Harry saw what the man was drawn to. Carved into the mountain's side was a white marbled archway. The words slipped from Harry before he could stop them, "Looks like the gateway to a mausoleum."

Legolas gave him a smirk, Aragorn raised an eyebrow at him and Gimli snorted in morbid amusement. Halbarad's voice startled the wizard, causing the teen to jump in surprise, "That's because it is."

Harry blushed, gave a sheepish grin and slipped from the saddle, "Yeah, right… of course."

The Dúnedain remained outside with the horses, but - for reasons that he couldn't put his finger on - Harry wasn't afraid to enter the home of the Dead Army. Harry straightened his school bag, allowing it to settle on his hip before following the three Fellowship companions through the entrance.

Gimli looked around with wide eyes, mumbling about how 'Dwarves were meant to be underground', but the red head didn't appear to be at ease as his knuckles whitened due to his fierce grip on his axe. Legolas' eyes darted from dark corner to shadow, bow in hand, alert for an ambush. Aragorn fared a tad better, for he steeled his spine and walked cautiously as he gripped the pommel of his sword.

An ominous voice whispered into the darkness, the kind that could send cold fingers down the spine, as the words echoed through the tunnels, "Who enters my domain?"

Aragorn continued forward and spoke with confidence, "One who will have your allegiance."

The mocking voice responded with disdain, "The dead do not suffer the living to pass."

The future king growled, "You will suffer me!"

The only response to Aragorn's claim was malicious laughter that echoed through the caves.

With all the grace of a gangly teenager, Harry ambled through the carved passageways, kicking up dust as he went. He paused at a crossroads, for lack of a better word and looked towards his left. Something was calling to him… urging him to take that path. Harry lit the tip of the wand with a silent lumos and turned left through the corridor as the others went in different directions through the maze of tunnels. The wizard had no idea where he was going - he just knew he was heading in the right direction - and stopped once he found what had drawn him to that particular antechamber.

The young man dropped his spell and took a good look around him. The cavern was massive; its walls were pockmarked with what could be considered large cubby holes to accommodate an endless number of skeletal bodies. Harry's voice was calm as he called out to the others. "In here."

The three others entered behind the Istar, standing in the center of the room; his back was to them as he faced not only a large stone thrown, but the spirit of the King of the Oathbreakers. He had heard them enter: the clanking of armor and heavy steps of the dwarf; the creak of a drawn bow; the sharp hiss of a called name, "Harr-"

Aragorn's summons was disrupted when said young man held up his left hand to still his associates and uttered the command, "Kneel."

The companions stiffened - Legolas with indignation, Aragorn with confusion and Gimli with surprise - not realizing that the young wizard wasn't speaking to them. Gimli growled in a rather loud raspy voice, "Oi, 'Arry. I dinnae think tha'-"

The dwarf's words died in his throat. The Fellowship gaped at the sight before them: not only did the spirit of the king kneel, but suddenly a whole army of dead - that surrounded the four living beings on all sides - knelt before the boy with heads bowed in silent reverence. Gimli was momentarily dumbstruck, but found his voice rather quickly. "Lad, is there - maybe - somethin' ya dinnae tell us?"

"Aragorn, he will listen to your request now." Harry ignored the chatter behind him and kept his gaze intent on the King of the Dead.

The man in question stepped forward and stood beside the wizard. Aragorn looked questioningly at him - Gimli's voice became a hoarse whisper, 'Do ya know wha's goin' on?' - but Harry was solely focused on the task at hand. Whatever question the ranger hoped to have answered would have to wait.

Aragorn strengthened his resolve, stood taller and pulled his shoulders back - Legolas could be heard shushing his dwarven companion - his grip tightened on his pommel. "It is time to fulfill your oath."

The dead king's head snapped up and he stared with empty eyes at Aragorn. "And you think you are one to make me?"

"I am Aragorn, son of Arathorn." He brought his sword forward, the blade near the king's face so he could gaze upon it as Aragorn spoke, "The sword of Elendil was forged anew by Elvish smiths: Narsil is now Andúril. Yield to me, fulfil your oath and I will see that your curse is lifted. Fight for us and regain your honor."

The King of the Dead hissed at Aragorn - as Gimli huffed at Legolas, 'But I dinnae understand why 'e would kneel ta the boy' - refusing the future king's offer, "There is only one we obey. Not you who bears his mark."

"Do you not wish to have the curse lifted; do you not wish to be freed from this non-life?" Aragorn's voice hardened. "Only I, the heir of Isildur, can release-"

Amusement was met by that claim; cold, heartless cackling bubbled forth from the King. Just as quickly as the laughter began, it ended. If the ghost had eyes, they would have flashed with annoyance when he snapped, "You are not the only one, mere mortal."

"Yes, he is." Harry interrupted the banter with his new orders, "You will yield to him-"

"Master!" The king stood, crying out in despair - Legolas gasped and Gimli sputtered, 'Didja 'ear wha' 'e called 'Arry?' - a plea for mercy died on his translucent lips as he was forced back to his knees.

"Do not interrupt me." Harry held the elder wand at the ghost, gripping it tightly in his hand. His voice was hard, his gaze was ice and he stood rigidly before the army. "You will yield to Aragorn! You will fulfil your oath and then, when he believes you've completed your task to his standards, you will be released from this curse."

The Oathbreaker King dropped his gaze with reverence and acquiesced to Harry's demands, "As the Master wishes, so will it be. We will yield."

"Well, now tha' settles tha'." Gimli shuddered and gripped his axe tightly once more as the army turned their attention as one towards the dwarf, "I think we should go now."

Harry stowed the wand and turned on his heel, "Sounds good to me. They'll follow."

Aragorn was at the boy's side as they departed the antechamber and he gave Harry a look that the younger man ignored. It was once they were winding their way towards the fresh air that Harry deigned to speak, "Ask me whatever you want when we're clear from the stench of death. I may be their master, but it smells like shite in here."

Legolas' lips twitched with amusement, Gimli kept looking behind them and Aragorn grinned briefly. "Very well, Vanquisher. Once we are traveling once more you will answer our questions."

* * *

They had made their way towards the entrance and met up with the Dúnedain. Yet the demand for answers was not quick to come, much to Harry's relief. There was one more task that needed completing first.

The group had made it to the river Anduin in a timely fashion and traveled downstream until they came to a dock. The Corsairs' ships - wooden pirate sailing vessels straight from the telly, as far as Harry was concerned - were traveling nearer and Aragorn called out to the King of the Dead. "Kill the captain of each vessel if they resist. Have each boat brought to the docks so we can board."

The king scowled at Aragorn, resisting his orders. Harry frowned, dismounted and stood beside the ranger. He refused to look in the ghost's direction, "Don't test me."

A green haze moved immediately across the water and Aragorn casted a glance at the wizard. Harry watched in fascination as screams and yelling could be heard from the water. It was like a green fog rose from the inky depths and soon there were splashes caused by bodies being tossed over or from those that jumped to escape.

Halbarad divided his Dúnedain between the boats and soon they were sailing down the river on pirate ships when Aragorn managed to corner Harry. The companions were holed up in the Captain's quarters, and the three looked at Harry with anticipation.

"So, story time…" Harry sat at the Captain's desk and combed his hands through his hair.

"Aye, it's time, lad."

"I think we've been more than patient." Legolas agreed.

"Alright," Harry tried for an easy fix to their curiosity, "Along with the other titles - that I mentioned back in Edoras and again to Lord Elrond - I'm also the Master of Death. That title isn't known in my world and I'd appreciate it if you don't spread it around here, yeah?"

Aragorn watched the young Istar carefully and was hardly appeased by what was said, "How does one become the Master of Death?"

"Simple really, I'm the owner of the Deathly Hallows. I inherited two and won one. I'm…" Harry groaned, "Bugger, you don't know about the Peverell Brothers. Okay, long story short: three brothers cheat Death using magic. As a reward Death gives them each a gift, the three parts of the Deathly Hallows. I am the direct descendant to Ignotus Peverell; last in a very long diluted family line and each of their trinkets are now mine. The one who owns all three Deathly Hallows is proclaimed the Master of Death and apparently that title transferred to this realm. Death is death regardless of where you live."

"What are the Deathly Hallows?"

Harry tried to be evasive, "The gifts given by Death-"

Legolas huffed, "What are the gifts?"

"This cannot be repeated," Harry held up a finger to show that he was going to continue when Legolas' usual calm demeanor was becoming more and more aggressive. Pulling the elder wand out, Harry quickly cast a privacy barrier before continuing. The wizard set the wand down on the desk. "Death wasn't exactly thrilled about having been cheated, but was cunning when rewarding the brothers for their clever thinking. In other words, Death offered them each a gift to trick them to an early grave and thus not having to wait to collect their souls.

"The first brother, Antioch, wanted a wand that could not be defeated." He pointed at the wand on the desk, "Death gave him the Elder Wand. Antioch foolishly boasted about the wand and how he was now the most powerful person. Naturally word got around, which lead to someone killing him in his sleep and stealing it. One brother down."

Digging into his school bag, Harry retrieved the second Hallow as he continued speaking. "The second brother, Cadmus, was heartbroken. He was to be married, but she died and he deeply missed his true love. Cadmus requested a way to bring her back. Death gave him the Resurrection Stone." Harry set the stone upon the desk beside the wand, "Cadmus was so happy that he ran home and found his fiancée there… but she was miserable because she no longer belonged among the living. Distraught, he released her and killed himself in order to join her. Two brothers down.

"The third brother, Ignotus," Harry pulled out his cloak and sat it on his lap, running his hand along the familiar smooth material, "asked for a way to hide from Death. He was given an Invisibility Cloak. That brother hid until he was ready to face Death as an equal. Before he passed, he gave his cloak to his son and this has been passed down from generation to generation."

"Tha' sounds like a tale fer children," Gimli scoffed and crossed his arms.

Harry didn't take offense; he simply grinned, "It was made into a folk tale… but it also happens to be true." He stood, shook the cloak out - allowing them to see its shimmering cloth - and wrapped it around his body, leaving his head to appear as if it were floating. "This cloak has been in my family ever since Death gave it to my ancestor. The others were more difficult to get, but owning the Hallows helped me kill Voldemort. Even if I don't necessarily need these items any longer, they're mine and my responsibility along with the ominous title of Master of Death."

Aragorn frowned. The wizard removed his cloak and promptly lost it to Gimli who threw it over his head, cackling and disappeared completely in order to taunt Legolas relentlessly. Moments later the ranger snapped his fingers and pointed an accusatory finger at Harry, "The Oathbreaker King said I wear your mark."

"I've never marked anyone." Harry picked up the wand and placed it back in its holster as he thought about Aragorn's concern, "That was something that Voldemort did: big ugly dark mark - skull with a snake - on the left forearm. Dark magic that caused the wearer loads of pain."

"There are a number of ways to mark someone."

"True, but in my experience they've always been negative and painful." Harry rubbed his forehead for a moment before he continued, "In this case I'm thinking it is my magic that he felt in the rune stones. I had used the elder wand to imbue them and attach the stones to your armor."

Gimli's head popped out from under the cloak, "Ya mean ta say tha' th' ghost was sensitive ta yer magic?"

Harry grinned at the dwarf, "Magical beings and magical creatures are said to be sensitive to magic. Some are even more so in that they can distinguish magical signatures."

"So tha' ghost king is more sensitive than me?"

"You're a dwarf," Legolas stated as if that were explanation enough.

"Ah course I am," Gimli huffed.

Legolas smirked, "You're as sensitive as the stone you come from."

* * *

Thanks Fen Dweller! I revised it.


	14. Need A Manual

**AN:** Parseltongue is done "**_like so_**."

* * *

**I Need A Manual For This Stuff.**

There were a total of ten ships filled with three of the original nine Fellowship companions, thirty Dúnedain, the King of the Oathbreakers and his army and Harry. The trip down the river Anduin was far from relaxing. Aragorn growled and planned, Gimli smoked endlessly and Legolas refused to take refuge anywhere other than the crow's nest - where Hedwig perched - as he watched the shores for Pelennor Fields.

Harry stood at the rail and watched the water's inky depths and let his mind drift. That encounter with the Oathbreakers was interesting. His inner Draco Malfoy had come out, but Harry felt he handled the situation rather well and not overly snooty. He thought about life and how changed his was here on Middle Earth. Harry reflected on the little things in life that he missed, friends, family, indoor plumbing…

Hedwig screeched. Harry's head snapped skywards as Legolas called out, "Pelennor Fields ahead!" It was the liveliest Legolas had sounded since they began their trek down the river. It was a matter of minutes before Legolas was running past him, heading for the Captain's quarters, "Hurry Harry! You must come."

Harry spun around and blinked, "Erm… okay."

By the time he had opened the door, the others - Gimli, Legolas, Aragorn and Halbarad - were already animatedly speaking. "Are you sure?" Halbarad had asked for what apparently was more than once from the look of impatience that was shot his way.

"The Witch-king of Angmar is unmistakable." Legolas' nostrils flared.

"Witch-king?" Harry asked, "That doesn't sound good."

"It was a sight I will never forget, all nine of the nazgûl waiting at the dock. Unmoving, still as the undead that they are." Legolas glanced at Harry, "Could they be waiting for you?"

"Nazgûl… didn't we talk about those once back in Erodas?" Harry asked, delaying giving Legolas' question an answer.

"Yes," Aragorn met Harry's questioning gaze, "The nazgûl are neither living nor dead. They could very well be waiting for you."

Harry turned his gaze to Legolas, "It's quite likely then…"

The King of the Oathbreakers entered the room gaining the attention of those within, "Master, the Witch-king begs an audience."

Harry gave the ghost king a nod and pulled from his inner Malfoy, "Very well. I'll grant him a moment of my time once we are on shore." With a small sigh, the young man turned back to the others. "I guess that's our answer then."

He turned on his heel and exited the cabin leaving the others to strategize… or whatever they were going to discuss. They'd planned their arrival for the past few hours, Harry was simply anxious to get off the ship and back onto solid ground.

Wandering along the deck, Harry found himself through the door to the lower level and halfway down the wooden stairs before he wondered where he was heading. The young wizard had been feeling overwhelmed with the presence of the army, the approaching battle and the intense planning.

Harry found himself alone in what could be considered the crew's quarters. He looked around the area and wrinkled his nose at the smell. The stench of sweaty men still permeated the air. Harry sighed softly taking a seat cross legged on the cleanest cot he had been able to find - after he had used scourgify a couple of times.

The weary wizard settled as comfortable as possible and closed his eyes with a deep cleansing breath. Meditation would calm him before the battle.

The rocking of the boat slowly ceased, causing Harry to open his eyes and stare at the wooden ceiling. Harry felt a pull on his senses, a similar pull when he met the Oathbreakers, but that one wasn't nearly as dark nor strong.

The trip had taken another thirty minutes from when Legolas had first spotted the nazgûl on the dock.

"Lad, it's time." Gimli's voice came from the top of the boat and Harry rolled his eyes as the dwarf didn't bother to come into view.

"Late as usual!" The high pitched, nasally voice had Harry cringing as he climbed the steps to the dock. "Get off your ships, you sea rats!" Ignoring the Dúnedain as they stared at him, Harry walked over to the railing. He gripped the rope nearby and hauled himself up to stand on the ledge as the orc finished his tirade. "There's work here that needs doing."

Before answering, Harry looked upwards and caught sight of the nine nazgûl perched on the rooftops nearby each sitting on a beast that Harry expected was the hell-hawks that Aragorn had told him about. Since they weren't really the problem at the moment, Harry ignored them and instead smirked at the orcs as he called out, "A wizard is never late. Nor is he early. He arrives precisely when he means to. At least, that's what I was always told." He raised an eyebrow at the ugly orc that had been speaking. The hideous thing had a scar running from its right eyebrow to its nose. On its head was a tin hat that had a skull on it. "What the bloody hell is that on your head? Did you mean to wear that? You really don't have any fashion sense, do you?"

All that had met his comment was silence until the orc turned to another that stood at its side, barking out, "Shoot the bug."

As the archer raised its bow, one of the hell-hawks dropped onto the pier. In a flash of movement the beast snatched the archer with its teeth and ate it. Harry blinked at the sight as the hell-hawk hissed out, "**_Foul._**"

Without much thought, Harry answered, "_**Well, your first hint should have been what they look like and your second would be the stench of the lot.**_"

He heard someone gasp behind him, but Harry wasn't paying the living much attention. Instead, his focus was on a nazgûl perched upon the hell-hawk. The ring-wraith was speaking harshly in a different language to the orcs.

Huge, black eyes locked with green ones. The large head snaked forward, bringing its nose as close as it could to Harry. Eyelids fell over the beast's eyes every few moments as it studied Harry quietly.

Finally the orc with the skeleton hat - not daring to look at the nazgûl - growled, "We will leave."

Intrigued, Harry cocked his head to the side, trying to see past the beast in order to see the orcs. However, the large creature moved with Harry, apparently refusing to let him out of its sight. With his arm stretched out as he continued to lean over the edge of the boat, Harry stared at the beast. "_**Is that necessary?**_"

"**_You speak my language. You are an interesting creature. Perhaps I won't eat you._**"

"_**That's… good to know.**_"

Straightening back up so he wouldn't fall into the water, Harry looked up at the nazgûl. "Why are you here?"

The living-dead said something, but it was spoken in a harsh language full of heavy consonants. It continued to speak, but Harry shook his head, "Yeah, can't understand you. English, perhaps?"

"I speak Westron and on behalf of the nine," the sound was deep, raspy and seemed to resonate with many different voices. It rang out, and Harry heard more than one set of feet step back at the sound. Not cowed by the new speaker, the wizard watched as another hell-hawk landed on the dock, the nazgûl perched on its back sat tall and proud as it stared down at Harry.

"I presume you are the Witch-king that asked to speak with me?" Harry asked.

"I am the Witch-king, Er-Murazor."

"Er-Murazor?"

The nazgûl nodded, "That was my name when I lived."

"So," the wizard asked, "what do you want?"

"Seven wish to be released."

Harry nodded his head, but was hesitant to just grant the request. "On what basis do they wish to be released?"

"It was without consent that we were brought back to the living. They haven't the strength to fight the call of the One. We have no desire to fight against the Master of Death."

"Ah, right. That's a good point." He looked upwards and waved a hand, "Um… I release the seven who wish to go back?"

When nothing happened, the young man huffed and stared at the Witch-king. "I need a manual for this stuff. Why isn't it working?"

"That would work. However, our bodies are tied to this plane because of our rings. We cannot take them off ourselves."

"Ah. Easy enough to fix." Harry paused for a moment before he pulled out the elder wand and pointed it at the nearest of the seven. "_Accio ring_." The small piece of silver flew off the skeletal finger and Harry snatched the ring out of the air right before it hit him on his face.

The nazgûl slipped off his hell-hawk and spoke - or at least that's what Harry assumed he was doing - to the beast. The hell-hawk - who had still been staring at Harry up until that point - lowered its head slowly, as if in a bow, at it's rider. The nazgûl turned his attention to Harry.

Harry watched as the cloaked figure knelt before slowly misting away until there was nothing left. The beast that the rider rode spread its wings and flew off to… somewhere.

The young wizard repeated the action with the other six ring-wraiths that moved closer, all apparently eager to leave the realm of the living.

Six of the seven freed hell-hawks raised their heads high, stretching necks as far as they could reach as roars of freedom escaped their open maws now that no one was there to control them. Black eyes fell hungrily onto the men, the dwarf and the lone elf. However, before any of the beasts could attack, the Witch-king spoke loudly in the harsh language. The beasts howled before they beat their wings and took to the sky.

The seventh of the freed beasts - the one which spoke to Harry - stayed put, still staring at the wizard. "_**You shall be my new rider. Until I tire of you.**_"

"_**Will I survive at the end?**_" Harry asked wryly, his eyes narrowing slightly.

The hell-hawk blew a gust of air at Harry's face, "**_I should be offended that you know nothing of my kind. I won't tell you._**"

Harry decided that the beast was most likely female, but he couldn't rightly tell by the voice. Shaking his head, Harry focused once again on the two remaining nazgûl. "Why do you two wish to stay?"

"Khamûl for his sense of duty. Myself to make amends."

There was a gasp behind him and Gimli whispering, quite loudly, "Did they actually say that?"

Harry simply ignored Gimli. "Amends? Amends for what?"

"When we took the rings, it had been for the power to rule. Not for death and destruction that our Lord had forced us to do. We had no choice. We now have a chance to make amends for what we have done. The other seven had wished to as well, but none were able to resist our Lord's call for any more time."

Harry made a sort of clucking sound as he thought, "Resist the call? How long can you two resist the call before you turn against us?"

The Witch-King bowed his head as he answered, "No more than a few days at the most, providing that Our Lord doesn't become aware of our treachery. Our Lord has a vise grip on us as we have been in his services for many years, but we have been in his service long enough to know how to fight his grasp longer than the others."

"Fair enough. You two may help with this battle, but afterwards you will go… to wherever the others went. If you turn on us, I will take your rings without a second's thought."

The two riders bowed in answer.

"_**What's your name?**_"

The huge beast blinked slowly before answering, "_**Andúnë.**_"

"_**Shall we go flying?**_"

"_**Hunt!**_"

"_**Yeeees**_," Harry said warily before he looked behind him at the others and grinned. "I'll see you out there." The King of the Dead walked up to him and bowed before calling forth his troops.

Grinning and ignoring the shouts of those on the ship who called for him to wait, Harry jumped onto Andúnë's back. At the base of her neck was a little niche that Harry was able to sit in comfortably as she jumped into the sky.

Wind rushed past him, forcing his hair back and taking his laughter and flinging the sound behind him as the two ring-wraiths followed him into the sky. Harry kept an eye on the battle below as the hell-hawks ascended into the sky.

"Take out those… elephant things!" Harry shouted over the roar of wind. "_**Do not eat the humans!**_" He ignored Andúnë's grumble of discontent, as the Witch-king and Khamûl flew on either side of him. The two gave him nods seconds before all three hell-hawks dove as one towards the battle.

* * *

Fen Dweller: Your reviews are always dreaded, enjoyed and appreciated. I actually knew the pommel / pummel and notched / nocked yet _still_ managed to mess those up! Please continue to review, I learn new things and get insight to new views. Dwarfnob, huh? Who knew? :P


	15. Stop Them!

**Reminder:** Parseltongue is done "_**like so**_."

* * *

**Stop Them!**

Harry loved to fly: on a broom, on the back of a hippogriff or on the shoulders of a hell-hawk. The freedom, the wind rushing past him, the sheer joy of soaring across the sky lifted his spirits like not much else in either world could.

Unfortunately that elation ended abruptly when the three hell-hawks and their riders arrived at Pelennor Fields. The war zone was something Harry had never witnessed before - the battle at Hogwarts was mild in comparison - and he hoped he would never be witness to anything like that again. The area was miles wide filled with fighting, riding and dying. There were men, orcs, horses and elephant like creatures that were frighteningly taller than any beast the wizard had ever seen before.

Upon their arrival, the hell-hawks had flown high over the large elephant beasts. Harry had taken the opportunity to gain a perspective of their enemy. The men on horseback below looked so miniscule in comparison that the wizard feared for their safety. When Harry had given the order to destroy the elephant like creatures, the nazgûl obediently tugged on the reins, swooped down and began swiping their weapons in response. The moment the hell-hawks attacked, the men in surrounding towers began retaliating.

Harry asked the hell-hawk, "_**Andúnë, what are those things**_?"

The hell-hawk hissed in annoyance with her rider's ignorance, "**_Mûmakil, great beast. Have great bloodlust_**."

The mûmakil were at least 35 feet tall with four gigantic tusks and each were harnessed with a war-tower that hung wide from each side and stood three tiers high. Men filled each tower from which archers and spearmen were fighting anyone that came within their long ranged reach. There had to be at least twenty of the great beasts making their way towards the battle. Originally he had ordered the hell-hawks not to eat the humans, but those in the tower and steering the beasts were about to become an exception. Harry called out to all three of the hell-hawks, "_**Hunt the riders and the mûmakil. Stop them!**_"

The hell-hawks screeched with a resounding cry of '_**Hunt**_!' and grabbed hold of warriors within the towers upon the mûmakil's backs while dodging arrows and spears.

Harry sat low against Andúnë's neck, safely tucked between the hell-hawk's wings. At the height they were flying, Harry's vantage point allowed him to see the battle below. Er-Murazor wielded a large flail in one hand and a long sword in the other while Khamûl swung a broad sword; they were made of a black looking metal and thickly coated with blood. Open wounds marred several beasts as the hell-hawks made another pass - one in front, one behind and one below - the line of progressing mûmakil. Harry commanded, "The mûmakil must not reach the battle!"

In response to his order, an ear piercing battle cry was heard across Pelennor Fields as Er-Murazor and Khamûl raised their weapons and prepared to attack the great war-beasts again.

The wizard gripped the elder wand, preparing for the next pass. Andúnë flew lower between the great war-beast's legs and Harry released a series of blasting spells at its softer underbelly. Numerous mûmakil let out pained cries; limbs, blood and innards were strewn in the wizard's wake. The last mûmak in the row of beasts raised its trunk as it trumpeted angrily and stomped as if to crush its unseen attacker in its death throes. "_**You anger great beasts, little rider.**_"

"_**I need them stopped before they get to the horsemen.**_" Harry and Andúnë banked around after they passed the last in the row of mûmakil. The wizard aimed for the tower, "Bombarda!" The tower was blasted with a direct hit near its center. Riders fell to their deaths, providing they hadn't already perished from the explosion's impact.

After their fourth pass the hell-hawk to their right let out a screech of indignation when a spear pierced through its wing. Harry grimaced at the sound of its pain and when he looked below them the beast could be seen standing on a toppled mûmak, tearing with sharp teeth at the side of the flailing war-beast. The rider was unseen in all the madness.

The noise from the battle was rising and Harry opted for pulling on Andúnë's reins to guide her rather than allow her to roam freely. The wizard was searching for more weaknesses in the great beasts and managed to blind one, sending it into a sightless frenzy. The beast opened its maw to cry out in its frustration and pain. Harry casted 'Bombarda!' as they passed. The impact of the spell caused the top of the mûmak's head to explode outwards, coating its back and all remaining occupants within the tower with blood, bone fragments and brain matter. The beast teetered and fell into the mûmak beside it.

The green haze of the oathbreakers had covered the ground before them as mûmakil approached the battle. Harry felt more desperate the further they marched. There were too many of them still marching towards the city of Gondor.

Khamûl appeared from between two mûmakil as one toppled over, taking out a second creature as its tusk pierced the great beast's side. The green haze broke off into three directions and the wizard urged Andúnë to move so he could have a closer look.

The Oathbreaker army spread over the battlefield like a plagued green death fog, destroying the last of the mûmakil and their riders. Harry cheered as the enemy's numbers dwindled, but came up short when he saw Er-Murazor facing a downed single rider of Rohan. The Rohirrim had made their way to the mûmakil. Many were slain by the immense beasts, yet one stood defiantly before the Witch-king with weapon drawn.

Harry immediately turned to land, hoping he would get there before any harm could come to - what appeared to be - a rider of the Rohan. Er-Murazor stood before the soldier; flail at the ready, yet not in a threatening stance. The wizard arrived in time to hear the witch-king speak. His deep baritone voice echoed with a death rattle, "By the order of my master, I am not to kill the humans." Harry inwardly groaned, wondering how he was going to explain away the nazgûl calling him master or anything else Er-Murazor might say before he could stop him. "You bear his mark."

"Stay away from him or I'll kill you!"

He blinked in confusion and dismounted quickly. Harry had recognized the voice, but who was the 'him' that should be kept safe? The wizard was about to call out when the witch-king growled with impatience, "No mere man can kill me. Now make haste back to the city walls. I will not warn you again."

"I am no man!" Éowyn tore off her helm and readied her sword.

"No!" Harry stumbled over dead bodies strewn over the battlefield in his haste to get to the Witch-king and the sword maiden. "Éowyn, wait! Er-Murazor stand down!"

Upon hearing Harry's command, the Witch-king immediately knelt and bowed his head respectfully, causing Éowyn to falter. She swung around to see who came up behind her and cried out in fright as Khamûl landed nearby, but he didn't dismount. Éowyn's gaze fell on the wizard. There was hope in her weary voice, "Harry?"

"What are you doing out here so far from safety?" Harry slowed his pace towards her as not to frighten the woman further.

"It's my uncle, he's hurt." In her desperation to save Théoden, Éowyn lowered her weapon - apparently forgetting about the two nazgûl nearby. "I can't get to him, his horse has him pinned, a mûmak threw them." A sob left her as she staggered a step forward, "Harry, can you heal him?"

"Master is also a healer? How is that possible?"

The sword maiden let out a startled squeak and stumbled backwards almost falling over the legs of the white dead horse that was - according to Éowyn - lying on top of King Théoden. Harry rushed forward and steadied the wary blonde, but spoke to the Witch-king while keeping his gaze on Éowyn, "I'm a wizard therefore I am many things: master, student, vanquisher, healer and friend to the good people that need me."

Harry and Éowyn made their way around the horse to find the king under the weight of the animal with Merry kneeling beside the man. Only the man's upper body could be seen from his position. The wizard dropped to his knees and ran diagnostic spells - ignoring Théoden's pained grimace and clenched teeth - asking, "Do either of you have any more potions?"

"I have no more." Éowyn cried out in frustration.

Merry looked up at Harry with tears in his eyes that stubbornly refused to fall, "I gave the king my last one. I know you said… but I had to!"

"I know, Merry. I understand. You did the right thing. Éowyn, I need you to move by your uncle's head and keep him focused on you."

Éowyn dropped to her knees and stared at the dim blue eyes of her uncle, "How? How can I?"

Théoden coughed and gasped when he spoke; his voice was a hoarse, strained whisper of a sound, "Sing to me… my sweet… little Éowyn."

Harry looked over the horse at the two nazgûl and two hell-hawks then hissed - Éowyn's soft singing faltered at the odd sound - at his new… friend, "**_Andúnë, I need you to carefully grab this horse off of the man._**"

"_**Mmm**_," Andúnë's tongue swiped along her thin lips and if the beast could smile, Harry was sure she was, "**_Tasty treat!_**"

Harry didn't wait for the hell-hawk to remove the dead horse in order to continue healing the injured man. There was extensive damage to the king's body - mostly skeletal: fractures, hairline fractures and breaks - even with the healing potion that Merry had given him. Summoning his own potion stores from his school bag, Harry began sorting through the vials that would be needed.

He had given Éowyn a 'job' to do, next he'd have to occupy the hobbit's attention to keep him focused and not allowing Merry to panic once the blonde saw what was on the other side of the horse. Harry kept his voice as calming as he possibly could and began talking to the hobbit, "Merry - once the horse is removed - I want you to use your cloak to cover the king's torso." He stopped short when he heard the king's cry of pain, "_**Stop! I told you to **_**lift**_** it!**_"

The beast hissed back petulantly, "_**I bite man not beast. You yell, too.**_"

"**_Enough! I don't have the time to argue. Step back._**" The wizard growled and switched to English, barking orders in his frustration. "Khamûl and Er-Murazor, raise this bloody horse off of this man! Mederi," Harry intoned as the two nazgûl raised the animal off of the King of Rohan. Andúnë pouted, waiting anxiously and impatiently for her treat, hopping from one foot to the other like an excited child.

Théoden groaned - the pressure from the horse had kept some of his pain masked - as he was freed from the dead weight. Éowyn's hushed song became strained with her worry for her uncle. Merry immediately draped the king's chest with his elven cloak and did his best not to gawk at the nazgûl standing over them, silently watching, but could be seen casting numerous nervous glances in their direction.

The wizard hissed at the pooled blood under the king's legs, moved to the man's left and chanted, "Vulnera Sanentur, Vulnera Sanentur, Vulnera Sanentur." Keeping in mind that the king recently had a health potion, Harry popped the top of a vial and handed it to Merry, "He needs to drink these in the order I give them to you.

"Sir, I know this is painful for you," Merry waited for Éowyn to gently raise the king's head and pressed the vial to his lip, "but if I deaden the pain too much you may unintentionally move, causing further injury," Théoden grimaced at the taste, but dutifully drank it down, "and you have a minor concussion so I can't let you sleep." Harry ran his wand over the king once again and handed Merry a second vial, "You have broken and cracked ribs and fractured sternum," the wizard cast 'Sarcio Sceletus' and other healing spells as he continued to keep the king informed, "You have pressure on your right lung and it's filled with fluid. You had a nasty gash; I managed to stop the bleeding and close it up." Théoden sputtered, but managed to drink the next potion, "You have damaged nerves and muscles and a broken left leg. I can't fix everything, we'll need other healers for that or time for me to read more in my books, but I will do what I can to keep you healthy enough for further treatment." Harry handed over a third vial to Merry. "Ferula, Sanare Nervos."

Éowyn continued to sing softly to her uncle, as he nearly choked on the last potion, tears slipping silently down her cheeks. The man struggled not to scream out in pain. Merry watched Harry after having put the empty vials in his own leather satchel. "He's not breathing well," Merry noted.

Harry nodded, "I needed to get his bleeding under control. He's very pale and risks shock from too much blood loss. Sarcio Sceletus. Hence the blood replenisher you gave him first. Then the calming draught so he doesn't get anxious and move; and that last potion you gave him is skele-gro - which I personally hate taking, tastes disgusting - but it will mend the bones more than - Mederi - my spells alone will.

"King Théoden, I am going to conjure a stretcher for you. Then we can take you to the gates of Gondor," Harry looked towards the white city and saw he saw a couple of tents being pitched, "where they seem to be setting up for… something."

"The battle…" Théoden still coughed and wheezed while speaking, just not as dreadfully as he had earlier, "it's over?"

"Yes," Harry's gaze scanned Pelennor Fields and landed on a small assembly of the oddest collection of beings, "from the look of the gathering going on center field, the Oathbreakers are being released."

Harry conjured the stretcher and magically lifted the king onto it. Merry immediately ensured his cloak was still covering the king. The wizard motioned to the last two nazgûl who were intently watching the goings on between the ghost and the ranger. "Carry the king to the others."

Khamûl's attention snapped back to Harry and the ring-wraith gave a sharp nod. Er-Murazor reluctantly tore his gaze from the ranger, made his way to the stretcher and grabbed one end. The two nazgûl lifted the stretcher and began the walk towards the gates of Gondor with Merry and Éowyn nervously walking alongside them; all four were surrounding the injured man as if he were still in danger.

The wizard began moving along with them, but paused to speak with the hell-hawks. "_**You both did well in battle. I'm sorry about your friend.**_"

Still watching the wizard with curiosity, the taller hell-hawk - that had yet to speak directly to Harry - canted its head to the side as if trying to figure what exactly to feel about the human speaker. Andúnë sniffed, "**_Not friend. Nestling._**"

"**_Like a brother?_**" Both hell-hawks blinked their confusion. The taller hell-hawk inched its head closer and sniffed at the wizard, much as Andúnë had. Harry raised his left hand and held it out towards the second best and tried again, "**_You were born, erm… hatched at the same time then._**"

"**_I said that; nestling._**" Andúnë nudged the other hell-hawk's neck when it bumped its nose on Harry's open palm and licked it. She hissed a warning, "**_My rider, you have own._**"

His voice was a low and deep rumble of sound, "_**He smells… ssssweet. Tasty.**_"

Andúnë hissed, "**_Mine!_**"

Harry blinked at the odd exchange and motioned behind him, "_**I need to speak with the humans. They fear you and might try to kill you if you get too close.**_"

"**_Not afraid, but we feast. You play._**"

Harry grinned at Andúnë, "_**Yeah, okay… play.**_"

The young wizard turned on his heel and quickly joined Éowyn, Merry and the two nazgûl carrying Théoden - who were half way to Aragorn, Legolas and Gimli. The three warriors watched the procession coming their way. Harry once again ran a diagnostic on the king, noting the man had fallen asleep, "Éowyn, your uncle may have a limp for the rest of his life, but I believe he will pull through this."

Éowyn smiled gratefully at the wizard, "Thank you, Harry. A chance at life is better than none."

Once they came upon the Fellowship, Harry noticed the King of the Oathbreakers still stood among them. The ghostly king stepped forward to greet Harry and knelt before him, "Master."

"You were released." Harry asked - ignoring the confused looks on Merry and Éowyn's faces, the knowing looks on Aragorn, Legolas and Gimli and the almost eager auras surrounding the nazgûl. The wizard looked from the king of the Oathbreakers to the future king of Gondor. Aragorn gave the teen a small nod. The wizard canted his head as he looked at the bowed head of the ghost, "Why are you still here, King of the Redeemed Oathbreakers?"

"I understand now," The ghostly king raised his head and gave a ghastly grin of rotted and missing teeth, "You could have released us and given us rest, but by forcing us to fulfill our oath we have been granted peace as well. Thank you, Master."

"You have suffered long enough. Go. Enjoy your well-earned rest." The ghost king bowed, inhaled deeply filling transparent lungs full of unneeded air and faded with a sigh of contentment.

The nazgûl gently set the stretcher down and both kneeled before the wizard. Harry turned to the two silent ring-wraiths to see what had them suddenly groveling at his feet. The Witch-king spoke in his eerily haunting voice, "The pull of the One has grown, Master. He is aware of today's events."

Khamûl lowered his head and raised his left hand in preparation of Harry summoning the ring from his finger as he had done with the first seven nazgûl. Harry stepped over to the ring-wraith and physically took the man's large gloved hand in his. Khamûl's head snapped up in surprise, but he didn't recoil from the contact. The once-man's face was hidden in the shadow of his hooded cloak, yet Harry spoke to him as if they were looking eye to eye. "You served me well, Khamûl." Harry firmly tugged the ring from his finger, "Rest now."

The ring-wraith gripped Harry's smaller hand in his and pressed his cold forehead to the back of it in gratitude, grumbling something in that heavily consonants filled language before misting away to nothing. In the distance the cry of the taller hell-hawk broke the eerie silence. Harry dropped the ring into his mokeskin pouch then turned his attention to the Witch-king.

The last nazgûl pleaded, "Please, Master. I beg release. He knows he's been betrayed. He is angered!"

Harry placed his left hand on Er-Murazor's shoulder and reached for the ring. The moment that his hand made contact with the ring he gasped as white hot pain pierced his scar much like the palantir had. Pulling hard on the ring, Harry released the Witch-king of his burden when the circle of silver was off the wraith's finger. Er-Murazor's shoulders slumped as one large hand hit the ground in order to stabilize his body so he wouldn't topple over in an undignified heap. The pain eased for the both of them, leaving the two breathing heavily. Harry rubbed his forehead as he struggled to speak, "You're free, Er-Murazor. You'll never be his puppet again. Thanks for your help. Go now and rest."

Er-Murazor panted as he tried to speak his gratitude, "Thank you… Master… thank you…" Wearily the Witch-king pulled off his tall black crown of a helm, allowing it to fall heavily to the ground with a loud thud. He sighed with the relief and faded out of existence with a last, "Thank you…"

* * *

"Frodo has passed beyond my sight. The darkness is deepening."

"If Sauron had the Ring, we would know it."

"It's only a matter of time. He has suffered a defeat, yes, but behind the walls of Mordor our enemy is regrouping."

The Fellowship had taken refuge in the halls of Gondor along with Éomer, Éowyn and the Dúnedain that weren't injured. Others that gathered were soldiers or councilors of Gondor, nobles and guards with a fair few servers. Many sat at long tables eating, drinking and conversing.

Gimli snorted as he pointed with his pipe in a general direction as if pointing towards Mordor itself, "Let him stay there. Let him rot. Why should we care?"

"Because ten thousand orcs now stand between Frodo and Mount Doom," Harry had been picking at the food on the plate that sat before him, but at Gandalf's words his head snapped over to the elderly wizard. The maia continued, but his words were hushed, almost choked, "I have sent him to his death."

"No." Aragorn slammed his fist on the table gaining everyone's attention. "There is still hope for Frodo. He needs time and safe passage across the Plains of Gorgoroth. We can give him that."

"How?"

Aragorn wore a devious smile when he responded, "We gather our full strength and march on the Black Gate. Draw out Sauron's armies - empty his lands."

As Gimli choked on his pipe, Éomer raised a valid point. "We cannot achieve victory from strength of arms."

"Not for ourselves." Aragorn agreed, "But we can give Frodo his chance if we keep Sauron's eye fixed upon us. Keep him blind to all else that moves."

Legolas' gazed at his longtime friend and met the devious smile with one of his own. "A diversion…"

Gimli gave a contemplative look, "Certainty of death. Small chance of success." The dwarf grinned widely, "What are we waiting for?"

Harry laid his fork down; his meal had grown cold some time ago. A thought struck him and he simply had to ask, "How long will it take to reach the gate?"

Aragorn contemplated the timing of their next mission before giving a response, "Just over a week's time once we leave Gondor. I'd say a fortnight to be safe."

"Excellent," Harry grinned.

They were watching the young wizard with growing curiosity. Aragorn raised an eyebrow asking, "What are you up to, Harry?"

The teen's grin slipped as he turned it to an innocent gaze, "Up to? Me? I'm not up to anything." Gimli snorted in amusement, Éomer nudged Harry and the young wizard's faux gullibility crumbled into mirth, "It's simply time for the vanquisher to meet the ring-bearer."

* * *

Created spell(s):

Sanare Nervos - Charms: healing spell, heal muscles (First used in chapter 4)

Sarcio Sceletus - Transfiguration: Repair bones (First used in chapter 4)

Mederi - Charms: healing spell, to mend wounds (First used in chapter 7)

Pineapple3000: I honestly couldn't think of a song to write. My son (just now) suggested something from The Beatles. Ah well, he wasn't home when I wrote that chapter. Sorry!


	16. Smell Orc, But Not Orc

Joe Lawyer - I'm not sure Andúnë will be a familiar, but she will be sticking around for a bit.

Nanchih - Up river, down river ... I hadn't realized. Makes sense though

Allround yaoi fangirl - The heights I mentioned I got from a website. Except for Harry. I think I just made the boy the same height as one of my kids.

Fantasy Boudicca - I can honestly say that thought had not occurred to me. I'm not sure that potions fall under the category of safely reproduced / copied things. Or why wouldn't they just do that all the time and not create more when they see they're about to run out?  
I suppose I was just waylaid by the idea of having similar plant life on both 'earths' and having an all knowing, all powerful wizard with unlimited resources was something I wanted to avoid.  
You do bring up an interesting idea. Thanks!

**Reminder**: Parseltongue is done "**_like so_**."

* * *

**Smell Orc, But Not Orc.**

It had taken Harry a few days to prepare for the trip to Mordor. He had to check on Théoden and Éowyn - who refused to leave his side for long periods of time - in the House of Healing where he had met Faramir - the new Steward of Gondor and apparently a brother to a Fellowship companion that had died during their travels several months prior to the wizard's arrival in Middle Earth.

Then Harry had to convince the two stubborn hobbits that they couldn't possibly go with him since the three of them wouldn't fit on the hell-hawk. Harry refused to admit that one of them could have gone with him since he knew picking Merry over Pippin - or visa-versa - would have created hard feelings and since the two cousins had just gotten back together the wizard wasn't keen on splitting them up again so soon.

Merry - in his infinite hobbit wisdom - came up with a sure solution that Harry was quite willing to go along with, but convincing Aragorn wasn't nearly as simple as the blonde squire had hoped. The man scowled at the armor clad hobbit, "It is not safe."

"Maybe not, but we can't very well send Harry off alone." Merry countered, "Frodo and Sam don't know him. They may not believe him when he says he's there to help."

"Be that as it may, that does not mean we have to take Pippin with us to the Black Gate." Aragorn pointed out.

Pippin stood - as tall as his short stature allowed - with a clank of his armor, the white tree of Gondor was prominently and proudly displayed on his chest against the black of the tabard. The hobbit spoke clearly and assuredly, "I serve the Steward of Gondor. If our soldiers are to march on the Black Gates, then I ride with them."

Aragorn sighed heavily, "The Steward of Gondor is dead."

"My Lord Faramir still lives," Pippin corrected immediately.

"He convalesces in the House of Healing. Lord Faramir will not be joining us," Aragorn tried reasoning.

Pippin stood firm before the future King of Gondor, "Then I go in his stead."

Harry chuckled, "You're going in circles, Aragorn. You may as well give in to their demands. King Théoden told both Merry and Éowyn that they were forbidden to travel to Pelennor Fields and you know how well that turned out."

"I cannot guarantee his safety."

"And I can't guarantee Merry won't be hurt. This is still war, Aragorn, and they're determined to join us one way or another. Besides, Merry's right: having him along may help Frodo and Sam trust me enough to help them. They don't know me from Adam." Harry gave a single shoulder shrug and ignored Gimli's question about 'who is Adam', "What would you have me do? Land a hell-hawk near them and let them think I'm a nazgûl?"

* * *

The hell-hawk soared through the dreary, smoke and ash filled sky above Mordor. The Plains of Gorgoroth stretched out below them filled with torn tents, dilapidated broken buildings, with a wide raised road that wound through its center leading north. At first the entire area appeared to be devoid of all life, but the trio soon caught up to the marching masses of orcs.

Merry clung to the wizard's shoulders as he leaned slightly towards his left - apparently forgetting Harry had put a sticking charm on the hobbit - peering at the ground far below. Flying had been frightening at first, but the activity seemed to have grown on him. The hobbit suddenly asked, "How are we going to find two hobbits in that? Do you have some kind of spell?"

"No, I can't just cast a spell without prior planning. There's a tracking spell, but I would've had to cast that before they took off in order to follow them to where they are now. There's a point me spell, but really that just tells me which way is north. Then there's a reveal spell, but with all those warm bodies down there the ground would light up like Christmas."

"What's Chrismiss?"

"Christmas is a holiday that is decorated with loads of lights. That's not important. The way I see it, our only chance of finding them in the masses is to trust Andúnë to sniff them out." Harry patted the beast's neck, "_**Can you smell the hobbits?**_"

"_**Much orc; smell bad. Sky ash. Land has dirty, stinky orcs.**_" She banked to the left hours later as they circled the long line of troops and let out a screech. "**_I smell not-orc._**"

The beast swooped through the air and came down with a resounding thud - unlike her usual graceful landings - scattering the orcs in her wake. Harry looked around at the bodies strewn about and asked, "_**I thought you said you found the hobbits?**_"

Andúnë huffed at her rider and swung her tail taking out her irritation on a group of dark skinned, bald creatures with sharp yellow teeth, "_**I say smell not-orc!**_"

Harry paused before spouting his retort, only to snort in amusement, "_**Yes, you did. Do you have any idea where you may have swatted them?**_"

The beast's head swerved towards the left and she sniffed in disdain, "_**These smell orc, but not orc.**_"

"Right… like that's a lot of help." Harry muttered under his breath.

"What is?" Merry was eager to get off the temperamental beast now that she was thrashing around on the ground.

"She said that those two 'smell orc, but not orc'." Harry pointed at two small lumps of fabric and armor.

"Maybe they know where Frodo and Sam are!"

"Do you speak orc?"

"Well, no."

"Me either." Harry slid from the hell-hawk's shoulders once she stopped snapping and swiping at nearby orcs, "But it's the best lead we've had so far."

Merry let Harry help him down from Andúnë - once the wizard had canceled the sticking charm - and patted her neck, "Thank you." The hell-hawk looked at the hobbit and canted her head in confusion, but the blonde hadn't noticed since he was looking at the wizard, "She's been a lot of help. Just imagine having to walk the whole way like Frodo and Sam did."

Having seen the harsh terrain from the safety of the hell-hawk as they flew over swamps and hills, Harry had to agree. Now it was their turn to brave the bleak environment in order to find the two traveling hobbits. They were currently at the back end of the marching army of orcs, but with as many troops that were still in the area, they'd need a distraction or risk getting swarmed. Harry grinned mischievously at the hissing beast beside him, "_**Andúnë go kill the orcs. Scatter them away from this area.**_"

"_**Play?**_"

"**_Yes, play! Go on now. Have fun._**"

The hell-hawk scampered off, her head swinging back and forth as she laughed, screeched and batted at orcs with her long tail. The black skinned monstrosities were thrown about like discarded toys, causing Merry and Harry immense amusement. "Well done, Andúnë. Now if only we could find those blasted hobbits as easily…"

Merry cheered the beast on, laughing merrily. The hobbit's laughter was drowned out by all of the 'playing'. But a muted clank behind them managed to catch Harry's attention. His head shot around towards the two lumps that the hell-hawk claimed 'smelled orc, but not orc'.

The larger of the two not-orc lumps moved slowly, reaching a gloved hand towards its rusty helm and pushing it off with a grunt. The barbute landed on the dirt packed ground with a metallic thunk. The pale-skinned not-orc groaned, its voice hoarse and gravelly, "What was that?"

"Is that one of your friends?" Harry nudged the hobbit to get his attention then pointed towards the not-orc lumps behind them.

Merry tore his attention away from the prancing hell-hawk and looked confusedly at the wizard beside him. It took him a moment to register that Harry had been pointing at something behind them. The blonde turned to see what he was talking about and gasped. Merry cried out and ran to his friend, "Sam!"

Sam grunted at the contact, but his eyes sprung wide as coherency came back to him. He heaved Merry away from him - thrashing out in a rush of adrenaline induced panic - and scampered to his not-orc companion lump with concern. The sandy haired, child-like, cherub faced, orc smelling hobbit cried out, "Mr. Frodo, sir!"

Only 'Mr. Frodo, sir' wasn't moving. The smaller non-orc lump was unconscious. Harry would have to run diagnostic spells to ensure the proper treatment for the two prodigal Fellowship companions. But in order to get the two healed, Merry would have to get through their sleep deprived, malnourished and dehydrated hazes.

Harry made his way over to Merry in order to help the dejected hobbit up off of the hard ground, but the wizard came to an abrupt halt when non-orc Sam scrambled to his feet and held his rusty sword out in a defensive stance. The sandy haired hobbit swayed unsteadily on his feet. "Get away!"

Merry moved slowly to his feet as to not startle Sam more than he already was and looked at his long-time friend with sadness. The blonde held out his hands, empty palms up and pleaded, "Sam? It's Merry."

Sam faltered. The sandy haired hobbit allowed the rusty sword to drop slightly, hope glittering in his hazel eyes, but they were wary when they looked at Harry. The wizard held his left hand up - showing his empty left palm - but never released his holly wand in his right, "Easy, Sam. Merry and I are here to help."

"How…" Sam looked frantically back to his friend, "Merry?"

Merry looked crestfallen that his friend didn't recognize him, but stubbornly tried again to get through to Sam refusing to give in to despair, "It's really me, Sam."

"Merry?" The name tore from Sam in a sob and the hobbit fell to his knees, the sword in his hand clattered to the ground. Merry was instantly by his side, cradling the shaking hobbit to offer what comfort he could. "Is it… are you really… Did we fail?"

Harry watched as Merry held a sobbing Sam. The wizard shifted from one foot to the other before speaking, "I'll pitch the tent, yeah? Get them some rest before the others make it to the Black Gate." Even though Harry had spoken to the hobbit, he didn't expect a response. After telling Merry about his actions, Harry got to work.

The screaming orcs and hissing hell-hawk were still rampaging nearby. Harry moved off to the side of the elevated road and pitched the tent relatively near a broken building in order to - hopefully - conceal its existence from Sauron. The wizard wasn't sure if the wards could hide them from the big eye. Once the shelter was in place he quickly cast numerous spells as he paced around the area and was pleased when he heard a gasp of surprise behind him, taking that as a positive sign that the wards were complete and working properly.

Harry crouched near the three hobbits and spoke softly, "Okay, Merry, the wards are up and that means anyone non-magical will be repelled - among other things that we can discuss later if need be - so here's how we're going to get you three inside. You grab hold of Sam and Sam grabs hold of me and I'll levitate Frodo past the barrier, okay?"

"What do you… who are you?" Sam stared charily at Harry.

"That's Harry; he's a wizard. Like Gandalf, but not exactly…" Merry stood and helped Sam to his feet, "I'm guessing you want me at the end to keep Sam from letting go of you?"

"There is that, but I think he'd feel more comfortable closer to Frodo," Harry gave Merry a quick grin when Sam's head bobbed up and down in agreement. "We'll do the introductions once we're safely inside and Frodo is awake. Out here we're easy prey and that makes me a bit twitchy." Harry pointed his wand at Frodo's prone body, "Mobilicorpus! Grab hold of each other and fight against the urge to let go."

Harry could feel Sam's grip loosen the closer they walked towards the wards. The wizard grabbed the hobbit's small wrist tugging him along with him. Once the four had cleared the magical barrier, Merry pulled aside the tent flap and the wizard guided Frodo's prone body to one of the beds.

Sam eagerly followed his floating friend and hovered nearby, unwilling to allow Frodo out of his sight. Harry wrinkled his nose at the ghastly aroma wafting from the two rescued hobbits, "Now I understand what Andúnë meant by you 'smell orc, but not orc'."

"It isn't as if we've had access to water for baths. Besides, we had to put on orc armor to blend in," Sam huffed, "or we wouldn't have made it this far."

"That is actually quite clever." Harry admitted, "Unfortunately I hadn't thought to bring extra hobbit sized clothing and Merry is rather fond of his new armor so I doubt he thought to bring any."

Merry shrugged apologetically. The sandy haired hobbit sheepishly dropped his backpack, "I have clothes, but they don't smell much better."

"I have something that I can alter. Perhaps that will work for you two." Harry frowned at the ring-bearer. "First I need to ensure you two are healthy."

Harry had dropped his school bag when they first came in, but now he went back to pick it up and took it over to the center of the room, setting it on the table. The Gryffindor searched for a pair of pajamas, finding two bottoms and grabbed a couple of soft worn t-shirts. He then summoned his potions satchel. "Merry, can you please get your friend a glass of water? Remember, not too full and not too cold. We don't want to give the man cramps."

Merry grinned and made his way to the kitchen, "Sure, Harry."

Sam rubbed his stomach that grumbled expectantly before sitting down hard on the bench. Merry returned with a cup half filled with tepid water. The thirsty hobbit's hands shook with anticipation as he reached for the beverage and Merry held his hand steady, "The healer back in Minas Tirith said you should sip the water and have a cup nearby for at least two days before you're hydrated enough. He also said you're not allowed solid food until the third day. He sent us with a lot of broth."

"Thanks," The infirmed hobbit drank as cautiously as he could manage, but found he had reached the bottom of the cup much too quickly for his liking. Sam licked at his lips and grimaced at the taste.

Harry had watched the man, "Sam, do you have any cuts, bruises, gashes, and the like that I need to take care of right away?"

"I'm fine," Sam denied and the wizard snorted with a touch of amusement, "What?"

"Growing up I spent a some time in the hospital wing or what they call a House of Healing in Gondor. I was always denied that I was hurt or sick. I hated spending time there." Harry rounded the table so he stood in front of Sam with his wand, "The problem is that you're suffering from malnutrition and dehydration. You may have other troubles, but those two are a given considering the condition we found you two in. So I'm going to do a quick diagnostic spell and see just how 'fine' you are."

Sam recoiled when the holly wand came remotely near him, but sat as still as possible.

"Not bad." Harry pulled a vial out and popped the seal off, "Here's the plan. I'm going to give you a healing potion that will take care of all your minor symptoms. Then I want you to take a shower and slip on these pajama bottoms-"

"A shower?"

Merry grinned, "It's like taking a bath standing in the rain."

Sam perked, "With warm water and soap?"

"And shampoo for your hair." Harry handed him the vial and Sam grimaced when he drank down the healing potion. "Yes, it is nasty and vile, but it helps loads. Just give it a minute to work. Come on."

Harry grabbed a pair of pajama bottoms and a t-shirt before heading to the bathroom. He adjusted the water and left the hobbit to bathe in privacy. Merry had made his way back to Frodo and sat on the edge of the bed. "Is he going to wake up?"

"Yes, but I want to wait until Sam is here before we do that. Don't want to scare Frodo or have him go into shock." Harry made his way into the kitchen and poured broth into two mugs and cast a warming charm over the pair. He then poured more water for Sam and one for Frodo before setting everything on the table in the center of the main room.

Frodo groaned and Merry called out, "Harry, I think he's waking up."

Harry made his way back to the prone hobbit and ran a diagnostic spell, "He's severely dehydrated, malnourished and… there's dark magic." The wizard moved around to the far side of the bed and ran the test again before cutting open the stinky orc fur vest. Frodo's torso was riddled with cuts, bruises, dirt and grime. Every rib was visible along with three wounds in various stages of healing: a large round puncture wound, a stab wound and a circle of open sores precisely where a chain hung around his neck with a small dangling bit of gold. "Is that…"

"The ring," Merry shuddered.

"Merry?" Sam's voice called out from across the room. The hobbit in question looked up and grinned at his friend. "What are you two doing?"

The wizard pointed at the sleeping one, "I need to wake him in order to heal him. We were waiting on you, but I ran a diagnostic and there's dark magic on him. I wanted you to be here because he needs to see you are with him so he doesn't panic."

Sam stood by the bathroom door: one hand holding his trousers in place, the other gripping the old orc armor. "What do you want me to do with this?"

"Toss it outside the tent flap… unless you want to clean it and keep it for a souvenir." Harry chuckled when Sam wrinkled his nose in distaste. "There's water and broth on the table for you and Frodo, but I'd really like to wake him soon… sooner rather than later."

"I'll be right there." Sam went to the entrance and dropped the armor before making his way to Frodo's bed, pausing long enough to grab both cups of water. Gripping the cups tightly, Sam looked down at his resting friend, "What do you want me to do?"

Harry blinked for a moment and then chuckled when he realized why Sam was holding one of the cups of water so awkwardly. "Merry take the water from Sam, please. Just long enough for me to fix those sleeping trousers."

Sam handed one over then shifted the remaining cup to his other hand before handing it over, managing to do so without letting go of his death grip on the pajamas. Harry's earlier pass with transfiguring the pants had made the waist too wide, but the length seemed well enough. This time he managed to get the waist manageable and then let the t-shirt out a bit around the chest. "You're shorter than Merry and Pippin."

"What? No, I'm the tallest of the four of us!" Sam looked at Merry and blinked at the grinning blonde.

"Not anymore." Merry's grin simply widened when Sam pouted, "Pippin is still shorter than I am."

"Drink your water, Sam." Harry grinned when Sam moved away from Merry and sat down on the bed beside his friend, grumbling about not being short, "Rennervate."

Frodo groaned and his eyes fluttered open. His voice was hoarse when he spoke, "Sam?"

"I'm here, Mr. Frodo."

His eyes drooped closed again and he smiled wearily, "I'm dreaming, Sam. It's a nice dream. I had forgotten what a bed feels like. I had forgotten what it feels like to be safe."

"You are safe, Mr. Frodo." Sam continued, "Merry is here… with a wizard. They've come to help us."

"Merry…" Frodo's eyes fluttered open again and he gave the hobbit a tired grin, "Where's Pip?"

"Pippin is with the rest of the Fellowship," Harry helped Frodo to sit up. The smallest hobbit that Harry had met to date tried to look at the wizard manhandling him. Frodo's head lolled to the side to rest on Harry's shoulder. The young man motioned to Merry for the cup of water before gently pressing it to the hobbit's parched lips. Frodo drank eagerly and gripped the wizard's wrist when he intended to pull away. "Not too much, I don't want you getting cramps."

Frodo let go and slumped back against Harry. It was the first time he had a good look at the wizard, "Thank you."

"You're welcome," Harry helped him drink a bit more before motioning to Merry, "I need a healing potion for Frodo. We'll get some broth in them both and get Frodo in the shower. Then we'll see about this dark magic residue."

Frodo had finished his water and was soon grimacing at the taste of the potion. It wasn't until after the hobbit gained his wits about him that he was able to tell them about the residual dark magic. Frodo peered uneasily at Harry, pulling away from the wizard. "I was stabbed with the morgul blade of the Witch-king." The brunette was able to sit up with the aid of pillows supporting his back after a few minutes, "They had to get me to Lord Elrond or I would have become one of them, a wraith."

"The perian is fighting the lure of the darkness." Harry shook his head in wonder, "Luna is really something."

"What?"

Harry explained, "Sorry. Remember the day we met, Merry? Luna is the blonde elf girl that left us before we went to talk to Treebeard about Saruman."

"She had a pretty smile. I liked her laugh." Merry grinned.

"It must have been a year ago at least that we were sitting by the Black Lake. Our headmaster was killed and she was explaining to me that it was a mercy killing: the old man was suffering. Anyhow, suddenly she was talking about a perian fighting the darkness." Harry looked at Frodo, "I'm betting she meant you. She's a bit of a seer and I hear you met her mum, Lady Galadriel."

"Lady Galadriel, from Lothlorien?" Merry prompted.

"That's the one," Harry was utterly bemused by the sudden wistfulness of the three hobbits. "I take it she's a friend?"

"She's mysterious, beautiful and a little creepy how she knew things about us."

"Sounds just like Luna," Harry chuckled.

Frodo suddenly blinked and looked at the wizard, "I don't even know your name."

"Me? I'm Harry. Do you think you can you sit at the table? We've got some broth and more water. We need to get you two back to health before you can continue on your journey. You're both in better health than I had expected."

"We've been rationing what was left of the lembas and water. We ran out of lembas a week ago and the water was gone a few days ago."

The two hobbits had exchanged a look that left Harry confused and from what he could tell by Merry's oblivious look the blonde wasn't any wiser. Since the two weren't forthcoming with an explanation, Harry continued, "We'll start with the broth today and tomorrow. Then soft foods before you two start on regular food again.

"As for drinking, you can both have your fill of water. I'd prefer you to stick with water until you're eating more solid foods then we'll try juice, but nothing acidic."

Merry and Sam helped Frodo off the bed and the three hobbits made their way to the small table in the center of the room. The small brunette was slightly winded by the time he sat, "I seem to be more tired than I realized. I'm not sure how we made it this far." Frodo looked at Sam and gave his friend a grateful smile, "I do know I wouldn't have gotten here without you, Sam."

"'Tweren't nothin', Mr. Frodo." Sam sat at the table beside his friends and gave a nod of thanks to Merry for his broth. After a few mouthfuls, he looked at the wizard, "When did you meet up with the others?"

Harry fidgeted at being the center of attention and gave a half hearted shrug, "I've been working with your friends since Rohan. I'm a wizard and a healer-"

"And the Vanquisher-"

"Oi!" Harry scoffed playfully at Merry who grinned back unrepentantly, "We aren't going into all the names. I'm just Harry.

"None of that is really important. It's all in the past. You two need to focus on getting well and back to your adventure. Aragorn figured you could use a distraction the closer you got to the mountain and since I suddenly found myself befriended by a hell-hawk, why not take advantage of her abilities and come see if we could help you two." Harry refilled the cups with water and urged the hobbits to drink some more water. Sam took note and drank from his cup as he listened. "He's got some seven thousand men marching to the Black Gate to pick a fight with the big eye and his orcs. He said it would take him a fortnight to get there. That gives us roughly nine days to get you two healthy again so we can get back on the trail to the doom mountain."

The two hobbits were sipping the broth eagerly and Frodo paused so he could ask, "Did Pippin go with Aragorn to the gates?"

"Yes." Merry fidgeted, "Well, only one of us could go with Harry to find you. Pippin agreed to go with Aragorn."

"Not that Aragorn wanted him to go along." Harry added as Frodo drank more broth.

"Well he couldn't very well stay behind. It would have crushed him not to help in some fashion." Merry countered, but he wouldn't get an argument from Harry. The wizard understood that feeling of uselessness.

"There's a shower and a loo in that room there. I have another set of sleepwear for you, Frodo. We can get those clothes washed that you had in your bag, Sam. There is one other thing I need to ask you to do, Frodo, but I don't want you to panic. I need you to take off the ring." Harry held his hand up in a gesture of surrender, "I'm not asking for it. I can't touch it. I have bad reactions to horcruxes. Besides, I only want it off of you long enough to put some salve on your neck. I'm sure you'll feel better after."

"What's horc-rushes?"

The three talked for hours about horcruxes, the hobbits shared their various adventures and what they planned to do next. Harry answered questions when asked. During that time, the wizard also ran diagnostics on the two hobbits and kept plying them with water and broth, but was more than happy to let Merry help Frodo make his way to the loo.

It took three days before Frodo had enough trust in Harry to remove the ring so the wizard could put salve on his neck. The ring-bearer set the horcrux on the table yet held his hand over his burden the entire time, but Harry noticed that the hobbit was breathing just a bit easier.

When Harry was done with the salve, he washed his hands and returned to sit at the table. Frodo watched his progression and the wizard chose to sit far enough away that perhaps the ring-bearer wouldn't put the horcrux on again immediately. The hobbit canted his head - causing his curls to shift - and leaned forward, "How do you know so much about these horc-things?"

"It isn't a story I tell often. Mostly I tell bits and pieces. Merry knows some, Gandalf and Aragorn know most of my story and since you've been around a horcrux for so long, I think you'll understand better than any of them." Harry rubbed his forehead before starting his tale, "It started when I was a toddler, just a year old. There was this Dark Lord named Voldemort and a prophecy that foretold about a vanquisher being born as the seventh month dies that would be able to kill him. Naturally, he wanted this vanquisher dead before he became a real threat so he killed my parents and then tried to kill me.

"The sowilo!" Merry exclaimed gaining odd looks from his fellow hobbits and a beaming smile from Harry.

"Yes," Harry raised his bangs and showed Frodo and Sam - who had walked in with Merry when Harry started the story. The three hobbits gathered around the table, listening intently as Harry told the story of life in the wizarding world and his run ins with the horcruxes along with how each were destroyed.


	17. Is That What I'll Become?

**AN:** Sorry it took so long to get this chapter posted. Unfortunately my darling daughter #2 was ill and I had to make the hard choice of prioritizing. Her health or this chapter ... difficult choice, I know, but I do believe I made the right one. The chapter waited as she healed.

**Reminder:** Parseltongue is done "_**like so**_."

* * *

**Is That What I'll Become?**

A week had passed and the two weakened hobbits were on the mend. They were no longer dehydrated and both were working diligently on overcoming their malnutrition by indulging their bodies with numerous meals that Harry couldn't possibly keep track of in the beginning, but after it was drummed into his mind, Harry couldn't possibly forget their seven meals. There was breakfast, second breakfast, elevensies, luncheon, afternoon tea, dinner, and supper. The wizard was left dumbfounded many times, staring in wide eyed wonder at the sheer magnitude of meals and was once heard asking them if they ever _stopped_ eating.

During their convalescence Harry worked with Frodo. While the wizard wasn't entirely sure how to rid a body of residual dark magic, he realized that Frodo's case worked much like a slow poison and treated it as such. Unfortunately Harry wasn't able to rid the hobbit of all of the taint within the wound. Still, Frodo had been grateful for what relief he was given.

Their time of recuperating was coming to an end. Harry could feel a nervous energy within him and found himself pacing more often than reading. Even the hobbits were becoming antsy having packed and repacked their rucksacks.

The four sat around the table after a rather hearty supper of shepherd's pie, it had been Harry's night to cook and the hobbits found the meal satisfying and rather tasty. Frodo had gripped the ring on its chain and said in a stilted voice that sounded rather as if he were expecting resistance, "It's time to go. We don't have to wait until the others get to the Black Gates. If the orcs are already gone from the area, then there's nothing standing in our way."

Sam looked tense and stared hard at the mug that he gripped in both hands. "If we can get rid of the ring, they won't have to fight anymore."

Merry let out a soft sigh of relief and nodded, "I agree."

Harry grinned at the hobbits and agreed as well, "Then get a good night's rest and we'll head out first thing."

The next morning Merry jumped up from the table and gripped his sword, slowly making his way towards the front flap of the tent. "What's that noise?"

Sam gripped a frying pan from the kitchen and made to follow Merry. "D'ya think the nazgûl came back?

"Harry took their rings and sent them away." Merry pointed out, "I don't think they _can_ come back again even if they wanted to."

"That's Andúnë. She says it's time to go." Harry yawned, scratched his head and wandered from his room towards the loo.

"Has anyone seen Sméagol?" Frodo canted his head as though the thought had just struck him. Harry glanced at him briefly with a look of confusion, but brushed it off as yet one more person the wizard hadn't met yet.

"No and I don't ever want to again." Sam went back to the kitchen to finish cooking breakfast.

That was the last of the conversation Harry had heard before he closed the bathroom door. After his morning ablutions, Harry was dressed for the next part of their adventure: jeans, dragon hide boots and a t-shirt.

It was a quiet meal as the four sat at the table consuming the food Sam had prepared. The hobbits were reflecting on the upcoming event, while Harry read one of his text books. Frodo occasionally rubbed his chest, Sam glanced at his brunette friend each time he saw the movement and Merry kept his gaze steadily on the exit as if he could see through the tent flaps. Harry was brought out of his thoughts at Merry's question, "What exactly did Andúnë say?"

"_Exactly_?" The wizard looked up from his book and took a sip of his tea before responding, "She said 'Eye look not here. Tasties two days.' The hell-hawk speaks in oddly phrased incomplete sentences, much like her 'smell orc, but not orc' comment. You have to interpret her meaning.

"This time she's telling us that the eye is focused on the incoming army. They will be at the gate in two days' time. But then, I didn't think to ask if that's two days as she can fly or the army marches…"

"So it could be longer than two days before they get there?" Merry frowned at his toast. "I feel almost guilty for enjoying my breakfast when they've been marching all this time."

Harry waved a dismissive hand, "If it makes you feel better, they had to have stopped for meals and rest. Besides, Pippin isn't marching, he's riding on a horse with Gandalf while we have to hike up the side of a mountain."

Merry dropped the rest of his toast uneaten, "Still…"

"Don't do that to yourself. We have a long walk ahead of us and some unknown terrain to climb through. Don't let your thoughts and doubts defeat you before you even start." Harry flicked his holly wand and sent the dirty dishes to the sink. With another flick the basin filled with water and the dishes began washing. "We leave in fifteen minutes."

The three hobbits quickly rose from the table and made their way to their room. They grabbed their refilled water skins, donned their cloaks and slung their packs over their shoulders.

Merry adjusted his armor and small sword at his hip. Harry grinned as he watched the blonde lead the hobbits outside before following them out: dishes were cleaned, all supplies were put away, his elven cloak was thrown over his shoulders and his book bag was in hand. The quartet stood outside the tent - yet still within the wards - and Harry tapped the tent with his wand. The wizard scooped up his tent and deposited it in his school bag before hitching it on his shoulder.

"Andúnë looks like she found something to play with again." Merry pointed towards the hell-hawk a few feet away. As the beast was flitting around a damaged building and batted at it - crumbling the walls and the ceiling - Sam and Frodo became increasingly alarmed.

"You don't have to worry about her," Harry attempted to reassure the two, "she's just playful."

"And deadly," Merry added.

"Well, yes…" Harry acquiesced, he couldn't argue with the truth. "Still, she is loyal and listens well when I tell her not to eat humans." The three hobbits glared at the wizard and he grinned sheepishly, "I told her to only eat orcs?"

All four travelers watched the hell-hawk's antics for a moment until they heard a hiss of sound that Harry didn't understand - and it hadn't come from Andúnë. Sam and Frodo exchanged a knowing glance, but this time Harry didn't let it go without comment since ignorance of any potential risk could endanger them all. "What did Andúnë find?"

Sam looked at Frodo, but the brunette dropped his gaze, refusing to comment. Sam huffed and explained in his stead, "That sounds like Gollum. He was a hobbit once, before he was taken over by that ring. Ya see, Sméagol owned the ring-"

"No one can own the One Ring. Lord Elrond said it belonged only to Him. The ring allows someone to have possession of it until it finds a new pawn." Frodo countered, but Sam wasn't finished speaking.

"Well, Sméagol had it for years, hundreds or something. Not sure really. He's strange, like half a hobbit, Sméagol, and half… mindless creature, Gollum. He was our guide for a while, until he betrayed us." Sam finished the tale and Frodo winced.

"What did he do?" Harry prompted.

Sam huffed, "Set me up to make Mr. Frodo think I wanted the ring, that I had eaten all the lembas. All the while it was to get Mr. Frodo alone, to send him into Shelob's lair."

"Shelob?" Merry blinked, "Who is that?"

"The huge spider we told you about," Frodo rubbed his chest where the circular puncture mark was. During their meals they had often talked about their adventures and misadventures, but they had never spoken of Sméagol/Gollum.

Harry looked back towards the hunting hell-hawk, "Then you won't mind if she eats him?"

Frodo winced and looked up towards their destination. "I'd rather she didn't. Sméagol's mind was overwhelmed by the ring. He's driven by it." The hobbit turned back to Harry with weary, pleading eyes, "You know what it means to be close to a power like that. How it influences you. Twists things until you don't know up from down, right from wrong, friend from foe."

"You're right, I do. Only he's been influenced for much longer than you and I have been. Unlike you or me, Sméagol allowed the ring to influence him and he betrayed you. We can't take chances. His fate is his own now and Andúnë will keep him away until we can get that ring destroyed," Harry waved his wand and dropped the wards, "Let's go."

The ring-bearer looked at Harry with uncertainty, regret and something that Harry wasn't sure he recognized, but if he wagered a guess he'd say it was fear. Frodo inhaled deeply, letting his breath out slowly and nodded his assent.

The four began the climb: Frodo took the lead, pulled by the ring to his destination; Sam followed Frodo as he had been since they had left the Shire; Merry walked beside Harry.

The wizard found the sandy haired hobbit interesting: a tad naïve, yet mostly a breath of fresh air. Even after having observed the horrors in the world - betrayed by Gollum, lost, starved and dehydrated - Sam was still optimistic and full of hope. The blond that walked beside him wanted to believe in that hope as well, but Merry was wary of the senseless deaths he had witnessed. Yet it was the brunette that Harry found he identified with the most. Frodo looked inundated by his burden: expected to have all the answers, being the only hope to save the world and - of course - the bearer of the One Ring.

Frodo's steps were slow and steady, but the hobbit looked at the ground and not towards the direction he was heading. Sam often gave worried glances at his friend - as he had been doing since the brunette woke up over a week ago. Merry kept alert, one hand on his scabbard at all times. Harry frowned at the world around them. The air was thick with darkness and evil, the stifling breeze was saturated with the stench.

In the growing distance Andúnë could still be heard growling, screeching, spitting and hissing. Harry snorted softly, gaining the others' attention, "She's, erm… having fun playing with the scrawny, pale orc."

"She has an odd sense of humor," Merry shook his head with a lopsided grin.

"Sure, by human erm… hobbit standards, but she's a hell-hawk. Andúnë has an ingrained fascination with death in general and those that inflict it, but it won't stop her from protecting her rider. For instance, the mûmakil at the battle of Pelennor Fields: she respected the species for their blood thirst, but she didn't hesitate to attack when I ordered her to." Harry differentiated, "It's in her nature. Andúnë can't help what she is. She's a hell-hawk, fell-beast and a predator raised to kill and carry out orders given by her rider.

"They're all free now. Once I released the ring-wraiths, the hell-hawks were released from their bond just like their riders." Harry glanced back in the direction he had last seen his new friend. "Andúnë chose me to be her next rider."

"Harry?"

"Hmm?"

"How did you release the nazgûl?" Merry's question caught the attention of the other two hobbits. As they all looked up at the wizard, he squirmed at the attention, but the only outward reaction was a frown. Only Merry wasn't done, "And why did they call you master, and-"

"Merry," the wizard really wasn't keen on discussing that particular subject and had interrupted the blonde quickly, "That's a story for another time. I don't think we should talk about how I stole the big eye's generals when we're traipsing along in _his_ land."

Frodo shot Harry a discontented look, "You make it hard to trust you."

"Why? I've done nothing but help you, and nurse you two back to health. I'm a private person and don't like being the center of attention. You lot are fast friends and known each other for years or are related from what I've gathered. So tell me, did Aragorn, Legolas, Gimli and Gandalf sit down with you four, and bare their souls, tell their life stories and share their secrets? Did you share yours with them in return?" Harry continued his tirade when the brunette hobbit huffed, "I spent the majority of my childhood in the spotlight and under a microscope. Let me tell you, it _sucks_. Everything you do is reported in the newspaper-"

"What's a newspaper?"

"What's a microscope?"

"And that's another thing, yeah? Half of what I say has to be explained because every day things that I take for granted are foreign to you lot. Like newspapers, microscopes, electricity, indoor plumbing, books, magic… they're all a part of me, who I am what I'm accustomed to and now I'm… _here_." Harry sighed heavily, but kept moving onward, "Sorry. I didn't mean to take out my frustrations on you lot. It's just that I don't know if I can go back home to my world. Luna got me here because some 'valor something', but can they send me back? She doesn't know. Once we're done with this task… the ring is destroyed," Frodo recoiled, "and this dark lord is vanquished, then what? I'm back to where I was… lost without a purpose. Only this time I'm alone."

"Only you're not alone, Mr. Potter." Sam corrected, "You can make a life here. You have friends in Middle Earth."

"It's not that easy, Sam." Harry was touched by Sam's words, but the hobbit didn't understand - he couldn't possibly understand since he didn't know the whole story. Harry dropped his gaze to his feet when the other three looked at him with questioning gazes. "Trouble follows me, no matter where I am. I'm too strong. I'm too weak. I know too much. I don't know enough. The risk of me going dark is too high. They want to control me, use me for their purposes - all for the greater good - and if I don't fall in line they immediately say, I'm evil. It doesn't matter how many dark wizards I defeat, or how many lives I save. I'm always questioned, tested… and found lacking." He gave Sam a strained grin, "And I asked you to call me Harry."

Sam gave Harry a tired smile in return before they fell into an uncomfortable silence and continued their trek. Harry sighed softly and called for a halt. They had stopped occasionally to have some water and stopped once for lunch. It was before they stopped for dinner that Merry finally spoke, "We're here…"

All four travelers stopped to look at the opening within the side of the mountain. The gaping cave looked dark and ominous, beckoning them forward at their own peril. Harry hitched his bag on his shoulder in his nervous gesture as Frodo grabbed for the ring around his neck. Merry gripped his pommel and looked to the others for a sign of what to do next. Sam looked from one to the other before pulling his own short sword - that wasn't much more than a dagger to anyone other than a hobbit.

Frodo blinked rapidly, staggering under the weight of his burden. Harry took a calming breath and took over giving direction, "Merry, I want you to stand guard at the opening with Sam. Frodo will destroy the ring and I will guard him."

"Now wait just a minute," While Merry had been nodding in acceptance, Sam balked, "Why do _I_ need to stand outside with Merry? I've been with Mr. Frodo _every_ step of the way. I aim to see this through."

"You don't need to be _outside_. Merry will be near the entrance, you can stand guard _inside_ to ensure no one gets in that shouldn't be there." Harry adjusted the orders slightly to appease the hobbit.

Frodo gave his friend's shoulder a squeeze, "Please, Sam. This is almost over and then we can go home."

Sam gave a tentative nod, apparently appeased with the altered plan of action. They all took a drink of water before continuing the trek to the cavern.

Frodo lost his footing a time or two, searching for the strength to carry on. Sam hauled him onto his feet and his friend leaned against him. Merry grabbed the other side and the two carried the hobbit the last few feet.

The four stood at the entrance to the archway. Before them was a plateau that jutted out over the flowing lava of Mount Doom. The heat was punishing and the adventurers began sweltering in the extreme temperature. Harry had casted cooling charms upon each of them, which alleviated a portion of the heat.

Merry - still wearing his squire's armor - was pleased to be stationed near the entrance - even if the reprieve from the intense warmth was negligible. The blonde stood near the entrance, sword in hand and watched as the others continued inside.

Sam stubbornly took several steps further into the cavern - not that Harry had intended to stop the hobbit from joining them if he was so inclined - and stopped halfway towards the far end of the plateau. The sandy haired hobbit gripped his weapon with unease, watching as his friend staggered away. He reached out as if to catch Frodo a time or two, but didn't leave his post.

Frodo and Harry walked closer to the edge where Harry stopped and urged Frodo, "This is it, Frodo. This is your chance to rid yourself of the burden that should never have been placed on you. It's time to get your life back."

Frodo looked up at the wizard and gave a stiff nod. He took two steps closer to the edge and removed the chain from his neck. The hobbit stared at the ring as it dangled from the chain for a moment and frowned in thought, "Such a small thing; yet it carries so much evil within."

There was a clang of metal meeting hard packed dirt. "Merry!"

When Harry looked to see what happened he saw an assortment of oddities. Merry was flat on his back - his sword waving wildly, yet fruitlessly in the air - at Sam's feet. Andúnë's head was poked into the archway; she was chewing slowly with blood dripping from her mouth. Sam was struggling to help his friend to his feet.

Merry waved his free hand, "I'm okay!"

Andúnë whined, "**_Foul pale-orc, skinny, nasty. Horse tasty_**!"

"Huh," Harry winced in distaste, "Apparently Sméagol managed to get away from Andúnë, but he won't be a problem any longer."

"He was after the ring." Frodo was still looking at the ring dangling from the chain in his hand, "It ruined his life, made him something less than human and still he was driven to get it back…" Frodo's voice softened, "Even Bilbo - who had it for sixty years - had a hard time leaving it be. When I saw him again in Rivendell he was almost feral with need when I wouldn't allow him to see it 'just one more time'.

"Is that what I'll become?" Frodo didn't meet Harry's eyes. He spoke more to the ring than to the wizard, "Will I too turn into a half hobbit, half creature hell bent on keeping this trinket? Willing to kill just to keep it in my possession?" Frodo dropped the ring onto his palm and pet it, stroking it like a beloved beast, "My… precious…"

The brunette's fingers closed over the ring, gripping it in one hand, tearing the chain off with the other and dropping the broken links to the ground. Frodo's attention was intent on the trinket in his hand, excluding all outside stimuli. Merry and Sam were calling out to him, begging him to destroy the ring. Harry took a tentative step forward and the brunette's head snapped up, clenching his fist around the golden band, "Frodo, destroy the ring."

"I… I can't…"

"Frodo," Harry bade, "Destroy the ring. Now! Don't make me use my magic; you'll hate me for it."

"No! It's _mine_," Frodo's eyes flashed with anger, his features grew hard and grim, looking quite out of place on the usually innocent, nearly angelic features.

"Bloody hell," Harry saw the glint in the hobbit's eyes and he knew what he had to do, pulling out his wand. Ignoring the others crying out, begging Frodo not to put the ring on, Harry commanded, "_Imperio_!"

Frodo stood still, the ring inches from his finger and stared sightlessly at his hand as if it were foreign to him. Sam hesitantly took a step closer, calling out to his friend, "Mr. Frodo!"

The hobbit didn't verbally respond to the sound of his name, but he did blink. The extended hand dropped heavily to his side. His face went through several expressions: blankness, confusion, fear, anger, doubt, sadness, defiance.

Harry's voice when he spoke was strained, "Keep trying, Sam. I'm losing him."

"_Losing_ him?"

"Yes! I'm losing him to the ring, Sam. Talk to him. Remind him of why he has to do this."

Sam visibly swallowed. The sandy haired hobbit held his hands open in a nonthreatening manner and took another step forward, his voice more assured with a hint of pleading, "Mr. Frodo! It's me; it's your Sam. Fight the ring, Mr. Frodo. You're stronger than this. You've come so far. Remember the people counting on us, our friends fighting so we can carry on. Remember the drinking, eating, singing and laughing. Remember the green fields, the tall mountains, flowing rivers and your home at Bags End. Fight him. Fight him and let's be done with this. Then we can go _home_; home to the Shire."

The brunette blinked. The hobbit's eyes danced from the ring to the edge of the plateau and back. Frodo did so again and again until he cried out as if in pain. The brunette fell to his knees and gripped the ring in both of his hands. Harry inhaled sharply, his face screwing up in concentration and shouted, "_Expecto Patronum_!"

The silver stag burst forth from his wand and immediately leapt to Frodo. Sam and Merry gasped at the sight. Frodo groaned as if in pain. The stag circled the crouched figure thrice and nudged at Frodo's forehead with his nose. The brunette raised his head and stared at the silver creature before him, his back straightening as if gathering strength.

Harry growled, the stag faded, and the wizard commanded once again, his voice booming with power, "Destroy it, Frodo."

Frodo's head was thrown back with a feral scream before he threw the One Ring over the edge of the plateau and into the bubbling magma below. His empty hands went to his head, fingers curled into his hair and Frodo rocked back and forth sobbing. His voice cracked with emotion, "I heard your voice in my head. What did you do?"

"I did what I had to do. What you couldn't do on your own. I helped you fight him."

"Mr. Frodo!" Sam came running, only to stagger to a stop as the whole cavern shook and the magma erupted. "We have to go!"

"_**Little rider!**_" Andúnë screeched from the entrance, "_**Come!**_"

"Hurry!" Harry shouted to the hobbits, but Frodo was in no shape to move of his own accord. With a growled 'Mobilicorpus!' he levitated the brunette hobbit.

Merry stood near Andúnë waving them over, encouraging them to move swiftly, "Come on!"

The wizard made his way towards the entrance with Sam teetering behind him - as the ground shook beneath their feet - fretting over his sobbing friend the entire way. The magma behind them exploded in violent bursts, coating walls and ceiling with lava.

A fierce upsurge of lava rocked the cavern and the plateau they were standing on began to crumble. The sandy haired hobbit ran to the others crying out in fear and Merry grabbed his hand, pulling him to safety.

At the entrance, the hell-hawk lowered her neck and Harry climbed into place. Merry and Sam lifted Frodo and settled the diminutive hobbit on Andúnë's shoulders in front of the wizard. Harry set a sticking charm on Frodo before nudging the hell-hawk to fly. Andúnë flapped her wings to take flight. The mountain shook and groaned. Merry and Sam watched in anguish, but were soon grasped in the hell-hawk's talons as she took to the dark sky.

Andúnë let out a cry of despair as her home was demolished. Lava burst from the bowels of the cavern and coated the mountain side creating rivers of destruction that flowed towards the Plains of Gorgoroth. From their vantage point, they watched as the Tower of Barad-dûr toppled and the Eye was destroyed.

Harry watched in morbid fascination as Mordor fell. The ground split - bursts of steam and lava surged through the forced openings - the fires sending all living beings running for safety. He could hear conflicting sentiments from the hobbits: Merry was cheering, Sam was calling for 'Mr. Frodo, sir' and Frodo continued to mutter about the ring.

The wizard ignored the hobbits and spoke to the hell-hawk, "**_Take us towards the Black Gate._**"

Andúnë banked and flew north, swaying and dancing in the air to avoid the jets of steam. Harry gripped the back of Frodo's shirt to ensure the hobbit didn't fall even if the sticking charm held, the wizard refused to take the chance.

The hell-hawk screeched and veered right as they neared the tall black wall. Harry could hear one of the hobbits cry out in excitement when an approaching army was spotted. The mass of armored men stood in what Harry could only imagine was shock at the sight before them.

"**_Alright Andúnë, let's get these hobbits back to their friends._**"

She soared across the troubled sky only to slow her approach when the soldiers took up arms in fear. "_**Stupid tasties. Andúnë bring not-orcs!**_"

Merry and Sam were frantically yelling at the men below, Frodo was silent as far as Harry could tell and Harry opted for a bit of magic, "Expecto Patronum."

The silver stag burst forth once more and ran towards the men below as a distraction. Andúnë took that opportunity to settle the two hobbits on the ground. The movement caught the army's attention once again and the stag dissipated. Pippin slid off of Gandalf's horse and ran forward to meet up with his friends, hopping up and down while hollering the entire way. The other Fellowship members also dismounted and greeted the hobbits. Éomer took charge of the army and began barking out orders to retreat and go home. Harry called out - after canceling the sticking charm on Frodo, "Aragorn?"

The ranger looked up at the wizard and made his way through the reunited friends. With a huge grin he greeted them. "You did it! Well done." Aragorn reached up to ease Frodo down from the hell-hawk. The hobbit hadn't spoken and allowed the man to move him as if he were a marionette. The man lowered Frodo to the ground and grinned up at Harry, "Apparently our trip to the gate was for naught."

Harry slid off of Andúnë as he spoke to the man, "Not true. Your march to the gate took the Eye's attention away from where we needed to be and, more importantly, got him to send his troops your way. By clearing the Plains, Andúnë was able to sniff out these two 'not-orcs' and clear the area. So, your march on the enemy was key to our success."

"No further lives were lost, for that I am grateful." Aragorn peered down at the hobbit that had still not spoken. "Frodo, you're trembling." The ranger asked the wizard without taking his gaze from his friend, "What's wrong with Frodo?"

"There's nothing wrong with him."

Harry was suddenly tackled into a hug from Pippin. The wizard stiffened and patted Pippin twice before prying the giddy hobbit off of his person. Utterly obtuse in his observations, Pippin grinned widely, "Thanks for taking such good care of my friends."

"Look at him," Aragorn frowned, "How can you say there's nothing wrong with him?"

"You're welcome, Pippin." Pippin was slowly catching on that something wasn't quite right; he turned quickly to the brunette and began questioning Frodo. Ignoring his antics, Harry opted to respond to the ranger, "He's in shock. There's nothing physically wrong with him. In the end, tossing that ring over the edge was rough on him mentally and emotionally. He had to mentally battle Sauron to keep his wits and toss the ring aside. Sam?" Harry waved over the sandy haired hobbit, "Sam got through to him once. I'm hoping he can again. Other than that, I'd wager loads of rest will help."

Sam had been watching quietly and moved to intercept his friend immediately. "Mr. Frodo, sir." Sam grinned at the brunette, "You did it! You saved us all."

Frodo blinked and stared at his sandy haired friend. The only sound that the hobbit emitted was a strangled whimper before the two were locked in an embrace. Gandalf stood and watched them with a sad smile. Aragorn frowned with concern for the brunette hobbit.

Pippin made his way back to Merry, who was telling Éomer, Gimli and Legolas about what had transpired since they had parted ways.

As for Harry… the wizard - leaning against Andúnë's chest, listening to her heartbeat, feeling content - had done what he did best.

Harry saved the world.

* * *

**Lord of Carrion:** Your idea of a showdown of words between Sauron and Harry is intriguing, but not at all doable for me. Simply put, my LOTR lore knowledge is too limited to pull that off.


End file.
